


Wandering in the Dark

by eraemilius



Series: The Wanderer [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Family, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Pacifist Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-05-12 01:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 59,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5649412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eraemilius/pseuds/eraemilius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Months after the Underground's population has relocated to the Surface, Frisk and Sans discover a lonely straggler calling himself Doctor W.D. Gaster still wandering the abandoned town of Snowdin. Hoping to help him adjust to life above ground, Sans and Papyrus take the stranger into their home on the Surface. But the Doctor's eccentric behavior is anything but ordinary, and before long Sans has suspicions that this mystery man may be hiding something serious. Unfortunately, his suspicions are about as far from the mark as possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

It was dark. 

It had always been dark.

A different dark. Smaller. Heavier. Dark.

Awareness came to him like a crushing weight upon his very existence, the length and breadth of his formless omniscience pressing in on itself, forcing itself into a shape that bore real weight and filled real space. He wanted to gasp for air, a desire he’d not known in years, but it was as though after all that time he had forgotten how to. Breathing seemed a small and insignificant bit of knowledge amidst the vast and infinite awareness of the world. 

He reached--reached, with hands? with something--and felt too weak to accomplish even the simplest of acts. 

The dark was oppressive; it was small and crushing, finite and close. He could see neither his surroundings, nor himself. His body--if it could be called such--responded to him only distantly; it was indistinct and insufficient, a reluctant bit of matter crushed into a shape that did not want to maintain its form. The weight of it was overwhelming. It dragged him down and sloughed off when he fought against it. He groped for something with what he thought must be a hand, struggling to find some piece of reality to give him purchase, to assure him of his presence; something, ANYTHING, other than the DARK.

A flicker of light broke through the darkness. 

His hands trembled.

He opened his mouth and sucked in a gasp.

He was alone.


	2. The Stranger

Snowdin was relatively the same as Sans remembered it. Not that it had been that long. His old house was still there, though the lights had mostly gone out since the CORE had shut down. There was still snow, everywhere, and icicles still hung from the edges of the roof. The cold had preserved everything in the months since the inhabitants had left, bound for the Surface. The library, the inn, Grillby’s. Sans smiled wryly. Even with the knowledge that Grillby was Surface-side, doing his same-old-same-old in a new location, there was something downright melancholy about seeing the old place abandoned. Every time Sans came down to the Underground with Frisk, rounding up the stragglers who had missed the mass exodus to the Surface, he couldn’t help but feel a familiar pang of hunger for some of Grillby’s good old-fashioned cooking.

_“Sans!”_

Sans glanced up from where he’d been kicking lightly at a lump of snow on the ground outside his old house. Frisk had gone off into the woods a little while ago as he wandered around town, hands in his jacket pockets, visiting the old sights. With the Underground nearly empty, there wasn’t much need to keep an eye on them any more (though he was sure he’d never hear the end of it if Toriel found out). 

Now Frisk was trotting back toward him, tugging at the hand of a fairly large and shapeless monster, who was stumbling along in bewilderment behind them. “You found another one?” Sans asked with a grin, turning to face them better.

It had been a few months since the last of the major groups of monsters had left the Underground, but Sans and Frisk (with others, at times) had made a few trips back to collect personal items and tech and things of importance that had been left behind. They also kept an eye out for monsters who had missed the initial summons to come aboveground, and helped bring them to the Surface.

This particular one stumbled along behind Frisk, looking nervous as all hell, Sans couldn’t help but think. He...might have been a skeleton (or skeleton-LIKE) at some point, Sans thought as he watched them approach, but this stranger had definitely seen better days. The bulk of his body was hidden under a coat that looked to be darker even than black, seeming to absorb light from around it. One skeletal hand was being clutched by Frisk while the other was twisting about, making some kind of frantic hand signs, though Sans had no idea what they might mean. Hunched and trembling, the stranger was looking at Sans with an expression something like...panic.

Frisk came to a stop in front of Sans, panting, and released their new companion as they doubled over to catch their breath. Sans gave them a grin and then glanced up at the newcomer, offering the most encouraging smile he could manage in light of the stranger’s obvious discomfort. “Hey. Missed the memo about leaving, huh?”

The monster withdrew his hand the second it was released, wringing both hands together anxiously. They were white and skeletal, more slender and fragile-looking than Sans’, and each palm had a large, round hole in it. He watched Sans still with a strange expression, looking fearful and nervous and almost...pained? Sans’ smile shifted a little with uncertainty and he tilted his head, observing the other monster with minor concern. “You okay, buddy? You’re lookin’ a little shaky.”

“I don’t...think he can talk,” Frisk said, straightening up to look at Sans. They turned back toward the monster, brushing hair out of their eyes. Their cheeks were pink and sweat prickled their brow still. Sans reached over to brush a bit of snow off their shoulder as they went on, “He tried to say some things when I found him, but...I couldn’t understand him.”

“Oh,” Sans said, looking back at the other monster again curiously. “Well, y’don’t have to look so scared now, we’re not gonna hurt you.”

The monster opened his mouth and a torrent of sound came out of him. It was as though normal speech has been recorded over itself, layered, and reversed, echoing and overlapping itself in a garbled, haunting mimicry of actual words: “/I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, please forgive me, I...I’m sorry./”

Sans blinked. He _knew_ that he had heard a lot of nonsense, that whatever sound had come out of the other monster’s mouth was _noise_ , and not speech. Yet...meaning had become apparent to him, somehow. The words were there though Sans couldn’t help but think he hadn’t really heard them. “W-woah, buddy,” he muttered, raising his palms in a peaceable gesture. “You don’t have to apologize, I mean, you’ve got a right to be scared, it’s tibia expected. I guess. Been down here by yourself for a while, probably?”

The other monster stared, looking vaguely panicky again. “/Y-yes...You do not know me…?/”

“Uh…” Sans tilted his head a little. The voice was still a jumbled mess of sound, yet the words were there nonetheless. “Should I?”

The other monster regarded him timidly. Sans wasn’t sure if he had imagined it, but it seemed the stranger had shrunk slightly, his coat somehow collapsing in on itself in the time since he had arrived with Frisk. He signed a few things with both hands moving swiftly in front of his black coat.

Frisk was watching Sans with interest. “Do...you understand him?”

Sans blinked, distracted from his scrutiny of the stranger’s handsigns. He looked at Frisk, unsure. “Uh...yeah. I guess.” He turned back to the stranger again curiously. The man was fidgeting, glancing around like a cornered animal looking for an escape route. His attention lingered on Sans’ and Papyrus’ old house for a moment, lamentably. “It sounds like nonsense, but I get what he’s saying somehow…”

Frisk blinked. They looked back at the stranger again and it seemed that he recoiled a little, cowering. Sans frowned at him silently. _What’s he so afraid of? The human?_

“Can you ask his name?” Frisk asked, looking back at Sans again. “I tried but I couldn’t understand him, so I’m not sure what he said.”

The stranger was already looking at Sans with an expression like nervous hesitation. Sans paused. It seemed to him that the stranger was already prepared to respond, and was just waiting for Sans to address him, like he had understood Frisk’s question but was reluctant to speak to them directly. That or he was being absurdly polite and waiting for Sans to speak up first. Maybe the stranger DID understand, but just couldn’t respond in kind. Sans cleared his throat quietly. “What’s your name, buddy? The kid says they can’t understand you.”

The monster glanced at Frisk briefly, frowning lamely, then he looked back at Sans again. He hesitated still, hands trembling a little against the blackness of his coat. “/I...am Doctor Gaster. Doctor W.D. Gaster./”

“Doctor?” Sans asked, intrigued.

The man fidgeted nervously. “/Yes./”

“What’s the W.D. stand for?”

The stranger met Sans’ eyes, looking somehow desperate. “.../Wing Dings./”

Sans watched him carefully, trying to scrutinize the look in the other man’s eyes, then he turned slowly toward Frisk. “Says he’s a doctor, name of Wing Dings Gaster.” When Sans looked back at the doctor, his eyes were on the ground, his shoulders hunched even more than before. Sans tipped his head a little and slowly placed a hand on Frisk’s back. “Well...it’s nice to meet you, doc. This human kiddo is my good pal Frisk, and I’m Sans.”

Gaster looked up quickly and an expression came onto face that startled Sans. It almost looked as though the monster were about to burst into tears and was only just containing himself from doing so. Sans wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone cycle through emotions as fast as this monster seemed to be. Gaster lumbered nearer, murmuring, “/S-sans.../”

The skeleton resisted the urge to take a step back, though he couldn’t help leaning away. “...uh. Yeah. So. You’re all alone down here? Your friends already make it to the Surface?”

Gaster smiled wryly.. “/I...have no friends, here nor there.../” He seemed smaller still, but Sans still wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination.

He felt Frisk touch the sleeve of his coat and glanced at them. They were looking up at him with concern. “Sans,” they whispered, “maybe you could let him stay with you for a while...”

Sans felt his stomach go a little tight at that suggestion; nonetheless, he found it hard to disagree with the friendless, homeless, damp-eyed man right in front of him. “Yeah...I guess that couldn’t hurt,” he murmured, eying the doctor again. “He seems sorta...uh...fragile.” He raised his voice, turning back to the stranger. “Hey doc, you wanna come with us? We got an extra room you can stay in on the Surface, at least til you get back on your, uh…” Sans glanced to the hem of the stranger’s coat. He couldn’t quite tell if the coat came to a hem at the bottom or if it was in fact...oozing down into the snow. Nonetheless, if there were limbs underneath it, he couldn’t say. “...feet.”

Gaster regarded him with hopeful uncertainty, seeming entirely unaware of Sans’ uncertainty. “/You...are inviting me to live with you?/”

“Well, temporarily,” Sans said, feeling a little awkward. “It’s just me and the kid and my brother.” He grinned, encouragingly, tho whether it was for himself or the stranger he wasn’t sure. “You’ll love my brother, I’m sure. He’s a cool guy.”

Gaster’s face lifted a little, and then that look came back into his eyes, the look of barely-repressed tears. “/Y-your brother?/”

Sans’ grin grew strained. Maybe the poor guy had just spent so much time alone, the prospect of meeting anyone was driving him to tears. “Y-yeah, his name’s Papyrus.”

“He loves puzzles!” Frisk added hopefully, smiling up at the stranger. Gaster gave them a small tearful smile, looking still timid but slightly less panicky now.

Sans cleared his throat quietly. “So what do you say, doc?”

Gaster came forward, slowly, and with effort. He seemed to have grown again, but again Sans wasn’t sure. He hovered close and reached out both hands expectantly. Despite his reservations, Sans extended a hand to him in return, keeping the other firmly and protectively on Frisk’s back. Gaster took the offered hand between his own as carefully as he could manage. His touch was stiff and his hands trembled. Sans noticed now that the holes in his palms were perfectly round, as though cut with a laser, though age had worn the edges slightly. 

Sans leaned back a little, startled when the other monster loomed suddenly close, looking teary and nervous and flustered and grateful all at once. “/I-I...I would be honored, thank you. Thank you, Sans. Thank you./”

“Y-yeah, okay, old man, no big deal.” He grinned a little sheepishly. He was aware of Frisk standing at his side, still beaming. “You sorta look like you could use a little, uh...help.”

Gaster smiled, shakily, still clasping Sans’ hand between his own. “/It’s very kind of you, Sans,/” he said in his garbled, backward-speak. He turned his gaze slowly on Frisk and smiled at them kindly. “/And very kind of you, child.../”

They smiled back at him, despite not knowing a word of what he’d said.

...

Sans had tried to get more information about Gaster on their walk back to the house, but the monster was about as scatterbrained as Sans could possibly imagine. Once he’d gotten over his initial shyness, he began speaking constantly on the way back to the Surface. He spoke himself in circles (on subjects as vastly different as possible), leaving little room for interruption, and his hands were always moving, making signs that moved too fast to follow. 

Once they reached the surface, though, he suddenly fell silent. 

The night was black and the sky above was full of stars. Sans couldn’t blame him for being captivated, for losing his tongue and staring upward in abject awe as they headed down the mountain. Sans tried to engage him in conversation a few times after that, but Gaster’s answers were brief, and often non-sequiturs. He was captivated by the stars. 

After a while, Sans gave up and settled for talking to Frisk, whom he’d boosted up onto his shoulders, letting their new companion trail behind them, his eyes on the starry sky above, his coat seeming to melt into oil as it dragged across the ground behind him.

The most that Sans could piece together was that Gaster had, at some point, been a scientist, that he had (at some point after that) been alone for many years, and that he had known the Underground was emptying but did not know where everyone had gone, so he had stayed where he was, and waited, afraid to go out on his own. Fear seemed to be a primary characteristic of the Doctor’s personality, or maybe not fear so much as anxiety. He seemed inherently afraid of the idea of interacting with anyone, and was even quite flustered any time Frisk addressed him directly. With Sans, though, he seemed somewhat more at ease. Perhaps because Sans was a monster, or a skeleton. As they walked into town, he hovered very near to Sans, following him closely, jumping and cowering at every small sound or indication of life in the neighborhood.

“Papyrus!” Sans called as he nudged the front door open with his shoulder. “You around, bro? We got a houseguest.”

Frisk climbed down from Sans’ shoulders as they came inside. He reached for the phone in his pocket as they kicked off their shoes and ran into the kitchen looking for his brother. “Better give Tori a call to come get you, kiddo…”

Gaster made a quiet ‘oof’ as his skull knocked gently against the doorframe. Sans glanced up and stepped forward to give the other monster some space. Gaster DEFINITELY seemed bigger than he had before. He ducked and came timidly inside, giving the room an anxious once-over. “This is it, doc.” Sans said. “Nothing fancy, but it’s home sweet home.”

Gaster looked down at Sans, curious. “/You live among the humans./”

“Yeah, more or less…” Sans stepped carefully around Gaster to close the door behind him. “This part of town’s mostly monsters now, but. Can I, uh, take your coat?” 

Gaster blinked, regarding Sans with awkward confusion. “/...t-thank you, but I’ll...keep it on./”

Sans’ attention shifted from Gaster’s face to the hem of his coat once more. It seemed more solid now, but nonetheless it somehow looked to be melting into the floor. He glanced up at the sound of Papyrus’ voice coming from the kitchen and Gaster looked up sharply, seeming to have frozen in time. 

In a moment, Papyrus stepped out into the living room, holding Frisk against his chest with one arm. He was beaming, as per the usual, and he wore an apron over his t-shirt and sweats. “Welcome home, brother! Hello, New Friend!”

Sans grinned at his brother. Cool, as usual. He raised a hand to gesture to Gaster but it was knocked lightly aside as Gaster came past him suddenly, rushing forward to meet Papyrus. Papyrus blinked, startled by the sudden approach, but he smiled nonetheless. “Hello!”

“/Papyrus,/” Gaster murmured, coming close and hovering anxiously in front of him. “/It’s so...good to...to meet you./”

Papyrus beamed, holding Frisk a little closer. They grinned up at him. “Wowie, you already know my name! How are you doing that with your voice??”

Gaster was smiling and frowning at the same time, looking to once more be fighting the urge to cry. He shrunk again, this time Sans was sure of it, not just hunching but physically shrinking in on himself. He reached out his trembling skeletal hands and Papyrus awkwardly met him in the middle, letting the stranger hold his in his own, as Sans had. “/Y-your brother has told me so much about you…/” Gaster stumbled over his words for a moment, then he managed unsteadily, “/I-I mean to say, he told me...how ‘cool’ you are...I...H-hello, Papyrus...I am Doctor Gaster…/”

“What did he say?” Frisk asked, looking up at Papyrus.

Papyrus stared at Gaster, seeming somewhat captivated for a moment. Then he turned to Frisk and blinked. “Can’t you understand him, human?”

“Not sure what’s up with his voice,” Sans said, walking over, giving Gaster a curious look. “Might be only monsters can understand him.” He gave Frisk a little grin. “He just introduced himself, kiddo, that’s all.”

Gaster smiled down at Sans, looking fragile again. He glanced back at Papyrus once more, giving his hand a pat before releasing him slowly. “/Oh, Papyrus,/” he said absently, “/your water is boiling./”

Papyrus blinked. Sans quirked his head a little to the side. “Uh...what water?”

“Oh! My spaghetti!” Papyrus exclaimed suddenly. He set Frisk down hurriedly at Sans’ side and rushed back into the kitchen. Gaster smiled after him thoughtfully, then looked down at Sans and Frisk. Sans was staring at him with confusion, while Frisk was watching Sans.

“How...on Earth did you do that?” Sans asked.

Gaster smiled shakily, apologetically, looking ever-so-slightly embarrassed. “/It is a...talent,/” he said, unconvincingly. “/I’ve very good hearing.../”

...

Once Sans told his brother their guest would be staying with them for a while, Papyrus offered the newcomer spaghetti, and Gaster accepted before Sans could warn him away. To Sans’ surprise, the stranger ate with gusto. It must have been because he was very hungry, because it wasn’t particularly good spaghetti (it never was). Frisk ate only a little, along with the meal Toriel had packed them before they’d left home that morning, and tried to ask Gaster more questions across the dinner table, with Sans awkwardly translating the answers for him. Gaster continued to be cagey and scatterbrained, sometimes giving answers that didn’t fit the questions, and other time giving answers for questions that Frisk hadn’t asked. Sans couldn’t blame him too much. It had been overwhelming enough coming to the Surface with everyone else. Coming alone was quite a change for one monster to deal with. Gaster seemed distracted by everything, every small noise and flicker of light, and intrigued by everything as well. He also seemed immediately fond of Papyrus and praised his cooking in ways Sans wasn’t sure he’d ever heard anyone praise his brother’s cooking before.

When Toriel’s knock came at the door, Gaster had been standing with Papyrus at the kitchen sink, placing his dishes into soapy water. He jumped with a start at the sound and immediately ducked behind the other skeleton, cowering.

“It’s okay, Doctor! It’s just my mom,” Frisk said gently. Gaster muttered uncomfortably and cowered a little more as Sans slid down from his chair and made for the front door.

...

“He’s pretty shy, T. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a monster so afraid of people. Worse than Alphys even. I mean, he practically starts shaking at the mention of a name he doesn’t know.”

Toriel frowned with concern. She stood in the doorway of the house, a denim jacket thrown over the shoulders of her floral dress. “Oh dear, what a shame,” she murmured. “The poor man must have been down there alone for months.” 

Sans hummed quietly. “I couldn’t get much out of him...Maybe you could ask around, see if anybody knows him. W.D. Gaster. He says he was a scientist, so maybe Alphys or someone else who worked in the CORE might recognize him.”

“I’ll certainly give it a try,” Toriel said. She smiled at him gently, and a little sadly. “But in the meantime, perhaps it would be best if you didn’t have guests for a few days. I would hate to cause him any more distress. Living alone for so long takes its tole on a person...He’ll need time to adjust.”

Sans grinned at her reluctantly. Any other night, he might have tried to get her to stay a while, sit down, watch a movie with him...but he knew better than to challenge her on this. Still. He wished she hadn’t worn such a nice dress just to pick Frisk up. He wanted to see more of her. “Yeah, I think you’re right...Keep your cell on you though, eh? And let me know if you find anything out.”

“Of course, Sans.” Toriel leaned down and kissed the top of his head gently. Sans blushed as Frisk came from the kitchen and crossed to the door, smiling.

“Hi Mom! Where’s Flowey?”

“Oh, he’s at home, dear,” Toriel said gently. “It’s getting a bit cold to take him out in the evening. At least, not without him throwing a tantrum about it.”

Frisk dropped down to put their shoes on in the doorway. Sans scruffed up their hair when the opportunity was presented to him. “Your mom and I decided no guests for a couple weeks while the doc’s here, okay?”

Frisk looked up at Sans, then at Toriel. “I can still come over, right?”

Sans slipped his hands in his pockets, shrugging. “The doc doesn’t seem to mind you too much, kiddo. Just no more new faces.”

Frisk got back to their feet, nodding. “I hope he’s okay...He was hiding so much I couldn’t say goodbye. Tell him for me? I’ll see you tomorrow, Sans.”

Sans smiled tiredly. “Will do, kiddo. G’night.”

“Goodnight, Sans,” Toriel said with a smile. She reached out an arm and wrapped it around Frisk’s shoulders, ushering them out the door. “Dear, it’s much too cold for this, you must begin wearing a jacket…”

Sans watched them til they reached the street, then reluctantly closed the door and turned back toward the kitchen. He could hear Papyrus talking animatedly and Gaster answering with the occasional nonsensical word.

...

“This was my room when we moved in,” Sans said, nudging the door open with a shoulder. “Frisk’s been using it, whenever they spend the night. But I figure you can use it for a few weeks, til you’re feeling a little more confident about this whole Surface thing.”

Gaster crept into the room, looking around it slowly. It was sparsely furnished: a bed, a nightstand, a dresser across the room, a few drawers partially open with clothing sticking out. Above the dresser was a large window looking out onto the backyard. There was a large tree casting shadows in the moonlight. “/Where do you sleep?/” he asked, crossing the room to the window. 

Sans grinned at his back. “The couch.”

Gaster looked back at him quickly. “/T-the couch?? You don’t have a bed of your own?/”

“I told you, this was my bed. But I like the couch,” Sans answered, still grinning. “Pap bought this bed specifically for me, but it’s just not my thing. I’d rather be out there. So, this is yours. For the time being, at least.”

Gaster regarded Sans strangely, as though with concern, then he gave the bed a precursory glance before turning back to the window. He brushed the curtain aside with a trembling hand to look out and up into the night sky. The stars were still twinkling far above, though their position had shifted in the time since they had come into the house.

“Now...I’m sure you already know this,doc,” Sans said. “But it’s nighttime. In the morning, the sun’ll come up, and the whole world will be really bright, like...bright as the CORE. So don’t be freaked out or nothing. That’s just how it goes up here.”

“/Nighttime,/” Gaster murmured. “/What time is it?/” He turned suddenly.

Sans glanced toward the digital clock on the nightstand. “Uhh, ‘bout eleven.”

Gaster hurried back over, inspecting the clock with interest. The red LCD numbers blazed against their black setting. “/Aah...This is a bit of human technology?/”

“It is indeed,” Sans said, grinning a little curiously. “Most of the stuff we’ve got now is human tech. Stuff with magic in it can be a little unstable up here. We kept some small things, but most of the stuff in the house is human.”

Gaster made a quiet hum of understanding, though he now seemed fixated on the clock. He reached down with both hands and lifted it carefully, inspecting it. Sans watched him, feeling mildly uncomfortable. Gaster’s attention was fickle, but it was furious. He either paid no attention, or paid all. 

“Well...uh, it IS late,” Sans said after clearing his throat. “So...I’m gonna turn in.” Gaster looked up quickly, blinking at him. “As I said, I’ll be on the couch.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Papyrus’ll be in the room right across the hall. If y’need anything. Anyway. Goodnight, doc.”

“/Oh! Sans!/” Gaster’s hand caught Sans’ sleeve and then quickly withdrew, timidly. Sans glanced back at him, raising a brow. Gaster fidgeted a little, signing a few things. “/I...just wanted to thank you again, for bringing me here...I...I’d been alone down there a long time.../”

It shows, Sans thought. “...no problem. The kid’s good at finding lost folks. And like I said, it’s not like we need the extra bedroom. It’s just temporary.”

Gaster smiled a little, faintly, tiredly. Sans couldn’t help but get the feeling he wasn’t saying whatever it was he really wanted to say. “/Yes, right, certainly...Still, your...kindness means quite a lot to me./”

“Right,” Sans said, regarding him uncertainly. “Well. Goodnight.” He turned and stepped out into the hall, but paused at a thought and glanced back.“Oh, uh, and doc--”

“/Of course./” Gaster said, smiling.

Sans stared at him. He had the strange and inexplicable sensation of his insides suddenly leaping forward inside of him. “...’of course’ what?”

“/Of course I ate your brother’s spaghetti,/” Gaster said, still smiling, speaking casually. “/I would never turn down offered food, especially from a host. Besides, it was very good. Papyrus is very...t...talented.../” The doctor hesitated, seeming to have noticed the shift in Sans’ expression. He began to fidget again slightly, fingering the hole in one of his hands with the thumb of the other. “/That’s...what you...were saying...wasn’t it? D-didn’t you just thank me for eating his cooking?/”

Sans continued to stare at him, feeling like somehow a few seconds had gotten away from him, like a song skipping forward ahead of itself. “I...was about to,” he said, now wondering if he HAD spoken and had somehow forgotten it. Gaster seemed to be growing increasingly flustered and awkward again, and Sans wasn’t sure he could handle another round of uncomfortable conversation with the newcomer for the night. He stepped backward into the hall. “Right. Well...uh...great. Goodnight.”

…

Gaster listened to Sans’ steps recede into the hallway. He touched the edge of the door and hesitantly closed it, partway, not all the way. He could still hear Papyrus cleaning up in the kitchen, humming a tune. After a moment, Sans turned the tv on low in the background.

Gaster glanced around once more and fidgeted a little restlessly with his hands. Of all the things he had imagined might happen to him, this was not one of them. His fears, though, had been realized. Reality might have split apart when he left it, but it had not healed itself when he returned. He had come back to a world that not only did not know him, but that had never known him. 

At least, that seemed to be the case...it would take some time to know for sure.

He sat carefully on the end of the bed, fingering the hole in his right hand absently. It had taken all his self-control not to shout out who he was. But he knew that it would make no difference. He was that man no longer. In fact, that man never existed here at all. 

His body ached, exhaustion coming on him heavily. Reluctantly, he lay himself back on the bed, sinking into the mattress. Sleep would come swiftly, as it always did nowadays. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. 

...

"Do you remember the moment when Sans first opened his eyes?"

"/Of course I do,/” Gaster murmured. “/How could I forget such a thing? He was so small, and so bright. I had intended to wait longer for him to mature before I placed that part of my Soul inside of him, but I just couldn't bear to wait any longer. I wanted to talk to him. I was so excited to meet him."

"He knew you for his father."

Gaster smiled with fond recollection. “/All on his own, he knew.../”

Bones grown from a piece of his right hand, Soul carved out of Gaster’s own. He had had no real idea if it would truly work, if a body artificially grown would accept a piece of a Soul removed from its original host. He had gone to great pains to do the experiment, hoping, dreaming for a companion, someone to alleviate his loneliness, to accompany him in his scientific pursuits.

“H-hello!” He’d nearly choked on the word for all the excitement that had risen up in him when Sans first came to life.

Sans had looked back at him, eyes wide. “Hey,” he’d said with uncertainty, glancing around the laboratory with an expression of intimate awe.

Gaster was hopeful, yet disbelieving. He’d felt like crying but was desperate to stay professional, to face the results of his experiment objectively. Nonetheless, he was trembling. “H-how do you feel? Are you well?”

Sans glanced back at him slowly, blinking. “I feel fine. I’m Sans, right?”

Gaster smiled encouragingly. He had instilled his creation with a basis of artificial knowledge, enough information to identify himself and his surroundings, and to interact with Gaster as an equal once his maturation was complete. He fiddled with his hands, fingering the hole in his right palm anxiously. “And I am Doctor Gaster.”

“You made me?” Sans asked.

“I did.” Gaster chuckled a little, feeling giddy and lightheaded. “I-I didn’t really know if it would work, but here you are, you’re alive.”

Sans mulled this over, then he grinned. “So you’re...what? My dad?”

Gaster blinked, going still and staring in awe. “I...I suppose I am.”

Gaster smiled fondly, nostalgia washing over him at the memory. "/I did not even put that thought inside of him,/” he murmured. “/He decided it himself, only moments after he awoke. I never really expected he would see me as his father...but I was...so glad that he did.../”

"Papyrus did not know you though."

Gaster laughed quietly. "/Papyrus was even younger when I gave him that second piece of my Soul...It was Sans who had been too eager that time. He was so excited at the prospect of having a brother./” He paused, thoughtful. “/Papyrus knew Sans though, I think, though he didn't say it at the start...I think he knew his brother from the moment that he saw him./"

Papyrus had spoken little at the start, but he had loved Sans, and Sans had loved him. He clung to his elder brother and followed him everywhere. It was exactly what Sans had needed, as hard-working and tireless as Sans was. Papyrus softened him, cared for him, gave him something other than his unrelenting curiosity to devote himself to. In truth, Papyrus had been exactly what Sans and Gaster had needed. He was everything they weren’t, and everything they needed in their lives.

"It's a shame it all only exists inside your head."

Gaster's breath came short. The world around him was suddenly heavy with darkness. The memories faded from his view, and the voice that addressed him, which until this point he had taken for granted, seemed loud and close by. "/Who are you?/" he asked.

"You know who I am."

Gaster paused, breathing in. "/I'm dreaming./"

"Of course. This would not be possible otherwise."

Gaster frowned, flexing his fingers slowly. They were trembling.

His own face stared back at him. It was young, and smooth; the skull was not cracked and the hands were still, fingers interlaced carefully over his chest. The doppelganger smiled at him, standing up straight and tall, no sign of a hunch or the weight that constantly dragged at Gaster in the now. "None of that ever happened,” his younger self said. “You know that. Sans opening his eyes, recognizing you as his father. Holding Papyrus in your arms. Carrying the two of them to bed at the end of the night. None of it is real. Not any more."

"/Neither are you./"

The younger Gaster smirked faintly but it softened into a sad smile. "We never existed in this reality until the very moment Prince Asriel absorbed the scattered bits of our Soul and spat them out again in one piece."

"/A broken piece,/" Gaster muttered. He looked beyond his younger self. The memory had returned. The younger version of himself was holding a small Papyrus in his arms as Sans, still in his youth, rushed up to him with a stack of papers in his arms, talking excitedly. He remembered this. He remembered Papyrus, fighting off sleep, too determined to finish a puzzle, and Sans, grinning up at him, some new idea for some new experiment in mind. 

The version of himself holding Papyrus turned toward him slowly, meeting his eyes.

“This never happened.”

Gaster’s smile faltered. He stepped forward and felt himself sink into the darkness beneath him. His body seemed to double suddenly in weight, the pull of it forcing him downward, his limbs melting beneath him til he was swept down and plunged into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks for checking out this fic. This is going to be a bit of a doozy for me but I'm committed to pulling it off. It is slated to be approximately nine chapters, varying in length, some of which are drafted and some of which exist only in notes at the moment. Nonetheless, the entirety of the fic is already planned out in detail.
> 
> The focus of this fanfiction will be upon the mystery man W.D. Gaster and his relationship with both Sans and Papyrus who are, in this story, his artificial children, but only in a reality that no longer exists. This fic is much more an AU than a headcanon, as I've bent the rules significantly to pull off my ideas. You'll notice that there are some things (like the gasterblasters) that I have purposefully ignored in their entirety. In the immortal words of MST3K, "Repeat to yourself, it's just a [fic], I should really just relax." Call it artistic liberty.
> 
> This fic is written with significant help from my good friend grunklebill. Not only will they be editing for me (yet again), they also have contributed immensely to the development of the story such that this fic would not be happening without them. So my many thanks!


	3. The Mystery Man

Sans was not a fan of Dr. Gaster.

He hadn’t minded him at first, quirky but harmless monster that Dr. Gaster seemed to be, but the longer the Doctor stayed with them, the more his behavior began to annoy and irritate and worry Sans as he stood by.

W.D. Gaster was a mysterious man, impossible to get any straightforward answers out of. He was skittish and nervous, constantly restless, and he spoke in a sort of discordant dialect that no one save Sans or Papyrus could understand. This was confirmed, rather by accident, when Toriel came to pick Frisk up the day after he had moved in. Overhearing Gaster speaking with Papyrus in the other room (she had texted Sans when she arrived so as to avoid knocking and upsetting the doctor again), she confessed she heard only gibberish, the same as Frisk described. When Sans confronted him later, Gaster claimed it was ‘a skeleton dialect’, and hedged around the issue of why he couldn’t speak in any other language. At the time, Sans wrote it off as just another aspect of his quirkiness.

Gaster was, frankly, a mess, and Sans and Papyrus had felt so bad for the man that after the first couple days of his ‘visit’, the offer to let him stay with them for a couple weeks had been extended to a less concrete amount of time. It had seemed like a good idea when they’d done it, but as the days ticked by, Sans grew increasingly uncomfortable about the stranger who seemed to be staying with them indefinitely. 

After four days of hanging around the house to try and acclimate the doctor to the Surface, Sans had reluctantly been forced to return to work, leaving his brother alone with the mystery man during the days. Every morning it got harder to walk out the door.

Because Gaster was more than just quirky. There were things about him that troubled Sans, and made him leery. The monster had an uncanny ability to predict things before they happened. Sometimes he did it purposefully, and sometimes he seemed to do it without even realizing he had done so. He would answer questions before they were asked, and jump ahead in conversations without prompting. He seemed incapable of restricting himself to the natural flow of time, and though his behavior was eccentric to Papyrus and Frisk, to Sans it was...troubling. 

After returning home from work on that first day he’d gone back, Sans opened the door to the house to find Gaster sitting alone on the couch in front of a muted television, tinkering with a small, rectangular object in his lap. He looked up with a start when Sans entered, blinking at him and shuffling a little to hide his ‘work’ behind his hands (an effort that was wasted because of the gaping holes in his palms).

“What’cha doing, doc?” Sans asked, feeling (for reasons he didn’t quite understand) uncomfortable as he shut the door behind him. 

Gaster glanced away briefly and then back at Sans. His guilt was evident. “/I-I was curious./”

Sans moved closer to the couch, his hands in his jacket pockets. “...about what?”

Gaster continued to fidget nervously. Then reluctantly uncovered his work to show off a cellphone, the back removed and the interior unscrewed. Several pieces had been entirely removed from the bulk of the phone. Sans grimaced at it. “/...P-Papyrus’ cell phone,/” Gaster muttered with discomfort. “/I’m terribly sorry, Sans, I’ve been so curious about it and he left it sitting on the table in the kitchen and I...Are you perhaps familiar enough with human technology to put it back together?/”

Sans glanced from the phone back to the doctor. Human technology was far from his area of expertise, but despite his frown, Gaster smiled suddenly, as though relieved.

“/Oh, good,/” he murmured. “/I’m sure she can.../”

Sans stared at him. A slightly nauseated feeling, as though he’d suddenly been jerked several seconds forward in time, settled into his belly. “...what? Who?”

Gaster blinked, looking startled. “/I-I...what? What did I say?/”

Sans was staring at him hard, confused, but he couldn’t help but notice the quiet thought in the back of his head that had come to life: ‘Alphys could probably fix this.’ 

Gaster smiled at him worriedly and stood, trembling. Sans barely got his hands up before the doctor abruptly poured the contents of the cell phone into his palms. And just like that, he slipped away, taking advantage of Sans’ confusion to exit the room before he could be stopped.

It was moments like that that set Sans on edge. The strange, unnerving feeling that the doctor was aware of things before they happened, of thoughts before they were spoken aloud. But almost equally troubling to Sans was the man’s keen attention and affection for Papyrus, which Papyrus seemed inexplicably unaware of. 

On that same day, Sans had come into the kitchen after meeting Frisk at the door to find Gaster and Papyrus hard at work on a handheld puzzle game at the kitchen table. “Hey,” Sans said, offering them a smile as he headed for the fridge. Gaster glanced up with a smile and turned his attention quickly on Frisk who followed Sans in and immediately came over to join them. Papyrus continued to concentrate on the handheld game in front of him, tapping his stylus on the table.

“What are you working on?” Frisk asked, sitting next to Gaster and leaning over the table to see.

Gaster spoke a few words and Sans translated them as he retrieved a juice box and a bottle of ketchup from the fridge: “Logic puzzle. Worth 400 points.”

“That’s a tough one,” Frisk said, leaning their chin into their hand and watching Papyrus think. Sans stepped over and slid the juice box across the table to Frisk, watching his brother as he fiddled with the top of his bottle.

Papyrus lifted his hand thoughtfully. “Did I try--?”

“/Yes,/” Gaster said.

“Oh. Hmm.”

Sans glanced at Gaster curiously, wondering what in Papyrus’ behavior had given away whatever he’d been about to say. Gaster leaned a little close to Papyrus, peering still at the game on the table. “/Consider starting from another point,/” he said quietly, motioning to the screen with a trembling finger. “/Somewhere less obvious./”

Sans watched as Papyrus leaned down closer to get a better look, scrutinizing the puzzle. “Oh!” he exclaimed suddenly. He lifted his stylus and quickly began tapping at the screen. In a moment, a small melody of triumphant music came from the device and Papyrus beamed triumphantly. “I did it!!”

Frisk smiled and Sans grinned, raising his bottle to his brother. “Great job, bro.” He took a swig, and then tensed as he watched Gaster lay a hand on Papyrus’ arm and smile at him with affection.

“/Excellent work, Papyrus,/” Gaster murmured. “/I’m very proud./”

It was moments like that that had Sans REALLY bristling. Sans didn't want to call what he was feeling jealousy, because it didn't make sense to call it jealousy. How could he be jealous of someone he'd only known for a few days when he had been with Papyrus himself for his entire life? It was just that Gaster didn't ACT like it had only been a few days. He acted as though he'd been with them for much longer. And his inappropriate level of familiarity with Papyrus was what troubled Sans more than anything. It would have made his skin crawl, if he had any skin to speak of.

All in all, after a week of Gaster staying with them, Sans had grown tired of their visitor, and reminiscent of the days before he had joined them in the house.

“Sans?” Papyrus asked, leaning into the living room. “Don’t you need to leave for work soon?”

Sans was still sitting on the couch, his blankets half over him, slippers on the floor. He hadn’t moved, except to shift himself upright, since he’d woken up that morning. “I’m stayin’ home today,” he said dully.

Papyrus hovered in the doorway to the kitchen. He was wearing an apron and cradling a bowl of batter in one arm, a spoon in the opposite hand. He was watching Sans with a look of concern. “Do you not feel well, brother?”

Sans glanced at him tiredly. “I’m fine, Pap, just...feel like staying here with you today.”

Papyrus lingered in the doorway still. Sans could tell he was concerned (he’d been losing sleep again) but frankly he didn’t have the effort to console his brother. He couldn’t understand how Papyrus could possibly manage to worry about him and yet not worry about the potentially dangerous stranger who kept wandering their house at night (that was another thing Gaster was doing: getting up in the middle of the night and wandering the house, occasionally dismantling their clocks and appliances and technology). 

“Well, can I make you any breakfast then, Sans?” Papyrus finally spoke up, sounding hopeful. “I’m making pancakes for me and the Doctor.”

“Sure,” Sans muttered, trying not to sound ungrateful when he really wasn’t, “that’d be great, Papyrus…”

Papyrus stepped back into the kitchen and Sans glanced down the hall, to the door to the room that had once been his and briefly been Frisk’s and now had been lent out to the doctor. The door was still closed, the monster inside still, presumably, sleeping. Sans couldn’t remember being woken up by him that previous night, but on the few nights Gaster had woken him up, he’d returned to his bed early and then slept late into the next morning.

The bedroom door opened and Sans looked up expectantly. After a moment, Gaster came lumbering out into the hall, shapeless black ‘shoulders’ hunched. He held an alarm clock in his trembling skeletal hands, which he carried over to Sans and presented to him, looking somewhat sheepish.

Sans looked at the clock, then up at Gaster, grimacing. “What did you do this time?”

“/I’ve taken it apart,/” Gaster muttered with discomfort. “/I’m afraid I couldn’t get it all back together.../”

Sans stared at the alarm clock. It seemed that Gaster had opened the back and torn out all the inner workings. Sans opened his hands and Gaster set the clock down into them carefully. “Why...did you DO this?” Sans asked, grimacing up at him.

Gaster smiled, fidgeting a little now that his hands were free. “/Human technology...It’s fascinating, isn’t it? Even their simplest devices, made entirely without the use of magic! It’s astonishing the feats they have accomplished at such a disadvantage!/” Gaster was beaming, flushed even with excitement, but Sans only looked up at him with suspicion. Gaster’s smile faltered and he signed something with one hand before glancing anxiously over his shoulder. “/P-...Papyrus has made breakfast./” he said. Or did he ask it?

Sans raised a brow. “...wait, was that a ques--?”

“Breakfast is done!” Papyrus called from the kitchen.

Gaster smiled again, shakily, glancing back at Sans once more. “/You are not going to work today?/”

Sans frowned. “Not today,” he muttered, standing and dropping the clock unceremoniously onto the couch. Gaster glanced at it with some concern, then back at Sans quickly. “Hungry, old man?” Sans said with little interest, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“/I...suppose,/” Gaster murmured, giving the clock another worried glance before trailing after Sans as he entered the kitchen. That was another thing that was bothering Sans. Gaster always followed them around like a shadow, too close for comfort, always hovering over Sans’ or Papyrus’ shoulder, his black coat seeming to drain light from the space around it. “/Did you sleep well, Sans?/” Gaster asked awkwardly. “/The couch is not a proper bed...The one you offered me--/”

“It’s fine, doc. I wasn’t using that bed anyway, Frisk was. I like the couch.”

Gaster made one of his ambiguously worried sounds and signed something with his hands. Sans glanced back just in time to catch him hurriedly interlacing his fingers. He’d tried on half a dozen occasions to make sense of the mystery man’s handsigns, but in vain. When asked, Gaster would struggle not to sign or sign rapidly and stumble his way through excuses over why his actions couldn’t be explained. It was another tick on the growing list of reasons why Sans didn’t trust him.

“Sit down, sit down!” Papyrus said to them both as they came in, standing at the counter with a plateful of pancakes. The stack was at least twenty high and leaning dangerously. “They’re getting cold!”

Gaster gave Papyrus a quiet, somehow proud, smile and took a seat while Sans slipped around to the other side of the table--as far from Gaster as he could get--and sat himself. Papyrus came over and served them both eagerly, five pancakes each, before sitting at the head of the table himself. Sans picked at the pancakes unenthusiastically (Papyrus had just begun branching out into breakfast food), but Gaster ate heartily and listened intently as Papyrus rambled on about his latest cooking lessons.

When Gaster had finished the last of his pancakes, he reached out a trembling skeletal hand and touched Papyrus’ forearm lightly. Papyrus looked up quickly, a forkful of pancakes halfway to his mouth. Sans watched, tense and still. Gaster smiled and said, “/Papyrus, they were delicious, your lessons are going very well.../”

Papyrus blinked once, then beamed, flattered. “Thank you, Doctor! I’m glad you liked them!”

Gasted nodded politely, smiling still. “/You have a lot of talent, Papyrus, keep at it./”

Sans had eaten Papyrus’ cooking for years. It wasn’t good. Time had not improved it much, but at least to Sans there was still the memory of the worst of it to give flavor to what Papyrus churned out now. Nonetheless, it still wasn’t good. At least, not so good as to deserve that kind of praise from a relative stranger. Sans wasn’t sure he had ever heard ANYONE compliment his brother’s cooking without struggling for words before. A genuine compliment? He had his doubts.

Papyrus, meanwhile, was flushed with pride as he began cleaning up the table, removing his and Gaster’s plates and silverware. “Thank you, Doctor,” he said. “I’ll tell Undyne what you said! Maybe sometime we can BOTH make something for you!”

Gaster watched Papyrus leave the table, then turned toward Sans, blinking with a start at the cold look he was on the receiving end of. He cleared his throat quietly, a sound that really did not much resemble the clearing of a throat, but that Sans recognized as such anyway. “/Frisk is visiting today./”

“Probably,” Sans said, short. “...wait, was that a statement or a question?”

“/It…/” Gaster gave him a somewhat defeated look, but Sans was too tired and too suspicious to humor him this morning. Gaster fidgeted with his hands uncomfortably and after a moment rose to his usual hunch. “/I will be in Frisk’s room, if...ah...You will not need me./” Papyrus smiled at him as he slunk out, completely unaware of Gaster’s discomfort.

“Do you want more, Sans?” he asked from the stove, where he was pouring the last of the batter out into the skillet. A new stack of pancakes had already been started to his right. 

Sans was silent, watching the doorway to the living room a while. He heard the door in the hall shut and drummed his fingertips thoughtfully on the tabletop. “Papyrus,” he said at length. “How do you feel about the old man?”

“Doctor Gaster?” Papyrus looked over his shoulder. “I like him! He seems very nice. I think once he is feeling better he will make lots of friends!” Papyrus beamed with his usual optimism. Sans couldn’t help but smile a little back at him, but it faded quickly and Papyrus too softened with concern.

“You don’t think he’s…” Sans wavered. “I dunno...kind of strange?”

The clueless way Papyrus was looking at him didn’t ease Sans’ concerns any. “Strange how?”

Sans laid his palm flat on the table, giving his brother a pleading look. “Bro, come on...You honestly don’t notice the way he acts around you? Look, does he ever...I don’t know, say anything strange to you? Like when I’m not here. Does...does he touch you when I’m not around?”

Papyrus blinked, turning toward Sans fully now. He tilted his skull to the side, looking at his brother with a mix of confusion and concern. “...Sans, what are you talking about?”

Sans drummed his fingertips on the table again, glancing away. “...Papyrus, I think there’s something weird about him. I can’t put my finger on it, but something’s off. Like...you know, sometimes he says things before they happen. He knows what I’m gonna say before I say it. He follows you around like some kinda lovesick kid. And he’s always touching you.”

Papyrus smiled weakly. “He’s just being nice!”

Sans looked back at him quickly. “It’s _weird_ , Papyrus. He just met you. You don’t touch people you just met like that.”

“Like what?” Papyrus asked, looking uncomfortable and uncertain at the same time. Sans took a breath and looked away. He wasn’t sure what to say or how to answer. When Sans didn’t speak up, Papyrus went on hesitantly, “He’s just being friendly, Sans...”

“Well he doesn’t touch ME like that,” Sans said stiffly. “Or Frisk. Just you, bro.”

Papyrus frowned, turning back toward the counter, where his stack of pancakes was growing cold. He glanced down at his arm, where Gaster had laid his hand frequently over the last few days. He supposed if he really had to think about it, it WAS a bit strange. Gaster touched him as though he’d known him a long time. But nonetheless, it wasn’t an unkind touch. And Papyrus was convinced that it was rooted in good intentions. He couldn't understand why Sans couldn't see that.

“Did you get any sleep last night, Sans?” Papyrus asked hesitantly.

Sans lifted his hand to scratch at the back of his neck. He sighed and pushed his chair out, sliding back to the floor. “Some.”

…

Sans retreated into the living room and collapsed back onto the couch. He listened to the sounds of Papyrus cleaning up and putting away the leftover pancakes, til his eyes slipped closed, and the sounds began to fade away. He woke with a slight start as Papyrus took a seat beside him a short while later. He looked up at his brother, feeling a bit guilty and not knowing why.

Papyrus was gazing straight ahead, looking uncharacteristically serious and thoughtful. “Sans,” he said, “do you think Doctor Gaster is a bad person?”

Sans closed his eyes, rubbing at them gently. Papyrus’ unwavering ability to see the best in people was one of his brother’s finest qualities, a quality Sans himself envied. He hated ever trying to convince his brother that ANYONE was anything less than what Papyrus thought of them, but at the same time, he wasn’t willing to put Papyrus at risk just to save his feelings. “I don’t know, Papyrus,” he sighed. “There’s just something weird about him, something he’s not telling us. How could literally NO ONE know who he is or where he came from? Tori asked around. There’s not a single person who recognizes his name or description. The Underground just wasn’t THAT big.”

Papyrus frowned, clenching his fists in his lap. “Sans...I don’t know!” he exclaimed. Then he paused, and knit his brows, and softened before looking at his brother. “I don’t know,” he said more quietly. “But I like Doctor Gaster, and if there’s something he’s not telling us, then...I think it’s probably because he knows it’s for the best!” He smiled, hopefully, reassuringly. “Afterall, the human trusts him. And they are very good at knowing who to trust.”

That didn’t reassure Sans much. He sighed a little raggedly, putting his chin into his hand, elbow propped on the arm of the couch. 

Papyrus watched him with concern. “You don’t have to worry so much, brother...You tire yourself out, and you are already tired enough already!”

Sans sighed again. “I know, Pap…I just don’t want anything bad to happen. To you or...to any of us.”

“Sans,” Papyrus said gently, tugging at his brother’s coat gently. Sans shifted his weight and leaned into Papyrus’ side, letting his brother sling an arm around him gently. “I can take care of myself, you know...And I appreciate your efforts to keep me from harm, but you have to take care of YOURSELF too.”

Sans closed his eyes, settling against his brother. “Papyrus, you always see the best in people, and I just want you to be careful--”

“I’ll be careful, okay?” Papyrus said, squeezing Sans gently to his side. “I promise...I will keep an eye on Doctor Gaster. But you have to be nicer to him. I still think you are overreacting. He is lonely and shy and he just wants to fit in somewhere and that somewhere happens to be right here with us. Be nice to him. Besides, he likes all that nerdy science stuff! You’d probably find things in common if you’d give him a chance!”

Sans smiled wryly. Papyrus might be right, but he wasn’t eager to ‘bond’ with the stranger himself. “Alright, alright,” he relented nonetheless. “I’ll be nicer. Unless he takes the alarm clock apart again, cuz I haven’t got the _time_ to sit around here all day fixing clocks.”

Papyrus pat his brother’s arm stiffly, clearly reigning in the urge to scold him. “I will ask him nicely not to take the clock apart again.”

Sans chuckled, though his heart really wasn’t in it. “Thanks, bro.” He hesitated. “But, Papyrus, seriously...the way he acts around you, it doesn’t bother you? Be honest with me, DOES he touch you when I’m not around?”

Papyrus hummed softly before he answered. “It doesn’t bother me,” he said quietly, glancing toward the closed door in the hall. “And he does touch me. But not really any differently than when you are here. It’s just little things. Like taking my arm or patting me on the shoulder. It...I don’t know. It’s not bad. It feels sort of familiar.”

Sans felt every inch of him tense, his breath coming a little short. “F...familiar?”

“...well, not really familiar,” Papyrus said after a pause. “Just sort of...I know flirting when I see it, Sans!! This is...different. I think he just really wants someone to...hold onto. And Frisk is so little--and I think he’s kind of afraid of them--and you don’t really seem to like him much, and...I think he really just wants to...connect with someone. And...I know how that feels...”

Sans looked up at his brother, the tension easing up slightly. He slowly wrapped an arm around Papyrus’ back and leaned into him fully, closing his eyes as Papyrus held him to his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say for this one, but as a note I want to make it clear that this fic will focus on the PLATONIC relationships between Gaster, Sans, and Papyrus. Many of the more fun aspects of the story will involve misunderstandings regarding Gaster's behavior toward various characters, but for anyone reading who has any concerns, the ACTUAL nature of the relationships between Gaster, Sans, and Papyrus will remain strictly platonic/familial throughout. Thanks for reading. :)


	4. The Fan

****Sans’ peaceful nights of restful sleep were out of reach for good, it seemed. He lay awake every night, one eye on the door of the...monster that slept in the room across the hall from his brother. Despite Papyrus’ efforts to get Sans to let his guard down, there was still something ABOUT Gaster, something Sans couldn’t shake; a thought, a worry, that had crept up into the back of Sans’ head and wouldn’t leave him alone. His promise to Papyrus to be “nicer” to the stranger had proven to be a harder task than he anticipated. So at night he lay awake on the couch in the darkness of the house with only the light of his left eye to keep him company, and he wished the monster named W.D. Gaster would _leave_ and not come back.

Of course, Gaster didn’t.

In fact, in the last few days, his behavior had only become _more_ bothersome. He was always there each morning now, hovering around Papyrus while he made breakfast, pacing in the hall if Papyrus stepped outside. He would fret a bit over Sans and ask invasive questions about whether or not Sans was sleeping, but Sans could chase him off with a few sharp words, and in the last couple days, Gaster had gotten in the habit of looking at him anxiously from across the room without actually speaking to him. It had made mornings in the house...tense. And it made leaving for work very stressful.

Sans had come to hate the idea of leaving Papyrus alone in the house all day with the doctor. Sans wasn’t sure what exactly he expected to happen, but Gaster was so FAMILIAR with Papyrus, and Papyrus was too trusting of him for Sans to feel comfortable.

Inviting someone over to keep Papyrus company (i.e. protect him) while Sans was out was an equally impossible solution. Gaster was still a nervous wreck around just about anyone other than the brothers and Frisk, and the presence of an unfamiliar monster only made him cling to Papyrus more. Sans and Papyrus had decided they would have to start familiarizing the doctor with their companions soon, but inviting someone into the house while Sans was out was not how he wanted it to go down, particularly if Gaster might pose some threat to someone else, whatever the nature of that threat might be.

Sans sighed loudly, letting all his frustration out into that one, abhorrent noise.

He was leaning on his hotdog stand, watching a group of kids play out in the park. It was the weekend, and Frisk was at Toriel’s with that damned flower, meaning Papyrus and Gaster were at home, alone, together. Again. The only solace Sans had was that Mettaton was going to be in town tonight, and he was going to be taking Papyrus out for the evening. Sans didn’t think he’d ever be so happy to see Mettaton coming to pick up his brother for a date, but the idea of getting Papyrus out of the house and away from Gaster was the most appealing thing he’d heard all week. Besides, Mettaton was so possessive of Papyrus’ time, maybe he could shoo the old man away. Maybe once Mettaton was in the picture, Gaster would leave Papyrus alone altogether.

Wishful thinking? Maybe.

The afternoon was slow, the temperature too low to bring many families out to the park, and Sans didn’t see much point in staying open past four, so he closed down the stand and headed home early. It wasn’t a far walk from the park to the house; a few blocks, easy enough even for someone as lazy as him. There were a lot of things Sans liked about his little job selling hotdogs like the old days, even if the pay was low and customers scarce this time of year. He liked the freedom to work when he wanted, and he liked watching Frisk walk home from school with their friends. He liked being outside, under the sun, or the rain, or the snow. Under the _sky_. Before Gaster had showed up, he had loved going to work in the morning.

Yet another little piece of happiness he had barely gotten his hands around before someone came along to take it away from him.

He pushed open the front door with his shoulder and kicked off his slippers onto the mat just inside. “Bro, I’m home!”

“Sans!” Papyrus voice burst from the hall. “I got a call from Mettaton, he’s coming over early! He should be here very soon!”

Sans grinned with quiet relief. Good. Great. Even better. “You two should stay out late,” he said (something he never thought he’d say). “Make a night of it. Paint the town...pink.”

“Sans!” Papyrus’ head poked from the bedroom and Sans grinned at him. “That is very kind of you!!”

Sans was still grinning, but the expression slowly faded as he realized something was missing from this scene. “No problem...Uh...Where’s the doc?”

“I’m not sure,” Papyrus admitted. “I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Sans jumped at a small crash from the kitchen. Papyrus looked over, shrugged, and quickly ducked back into his room. Sans grimaced and headed over to inspect the damage himself, already feeling too tired to deal with whatever was to be found in the next room.

Gaster was standing near the kitchen counter in front of a mostly-dismantled microwave, a few tools laid out on the counter amid the mess. Several bits of assorted pieces had just fallen on the floor near the hem of the monster’s coat and he was gazing down at them in dismay.

Sans stood in the doorway, debating whether to even bother engaging this at all. “...doc, are you kidding me?”

Gaster looked up quickly, smiling at Sans, though he had about him the look of a child caught in the act of misbehaving. “/S-sans…! Welcome home./”

“What are you doing?”

“/...Papyrus showed me how the microwave works./”

“Yeah? And does it work any more?”

“/...that is unlikely./”

“Why the hell did you have to take it apart?” Sans asked, stepping over to inspect the damage. Gaster had entirely pulled out the inner workings. Sans figured it could probably be fixed, but he didn’t have enough precursory knowledge of human technology to do it himself. This was going to require a call to someone, and probably money, unless Alphys was in town sometime soon. “That was a NICE microwave.”

“/I-it’s fascinating though, isn’t it?/” Gaster said, sounding eager, the way he did whenever he destroyed something in their house and couldn’t put it back together. “/It heats food in a matter of minutes--seconds even!--without the use of any magic whatsoever! Entirely powered by electricity, using electromagnetic radiation in order to excite particles in the food without presenting risk to the human who uses it. The fact that humans could conceive of how to construct such a device, relying entirely upon science! It’s a marvel, a--/”

“It’s trash, doc, you took the whole thing apart.”

Gaster looked up, seeming slightly startled by Sans’ interruption. Crestfallen, he fidgeted with his hands and offered quietly, “/I...will make every effort to reconstruct it./”

“Sure,” Sans sighed. “Just like the clock. And Papyrus’ cell phone.” As annoying as Gaster’s uncontrollable urge to dismantle the technology in their house was, at least he was leaving Papyrus alone while he was busy doing it. There was some peace of mind in knowing that Gaster had likely spent most of his day with the microwave instead of Papyrus.

There was a knock at the door and Gaster immediately recoiled, as he was likely to do whenever someone came to visit. “Cool it, doc,” Sans said, “you’re gonna have to get used to people coming over. You’ve been here for over a week.” Gaster was trembling and shrinking back nonetheless. Sans repressed a sigh and ignored him as he headed out into the living room. Papyrus was practically falling over himself as he scrambled out of the hall and to the door ahead of him, tearing it open with a grin. He was already flushed with excitement.

Mettaton stood, weight shifted to one hip, one hand on the doorframe, smiling coolly as the door was opened. He had clearly posed himself before knocking. He brushed his free hand through his hair, tipping his chin downward as he spoke, “Well, hello darling, long time n--”

Before he could even finish, Papyrus had dove forward into an enthusiastic embrace. Mettaton was clearly startled but he laughed a little just the same and returned the hug with gratitude. Sans smiled to himself, stuffing his hands in his pockets while Gaster drifted anxiously into the room behind him.

“/Y...you two know Mettaton?/” he asked, sounding astonished.

Sans glanced back at the monster, morbidly curious. Gaster seemed to be straightening up slightly as he entered, lifting out of his heavy hunch for the first time since Sans had met him. His trembling fingers were interlaced, his eyes locked on the robot across the room. It was quite a difference from the way he usually cowered away from Toriel’s voice. In fact, it almost reminded Sans of the way Papyrus had initially reacted to Mettaton, before they’d officially met.

Sans bunched up his shoulders, venturing an uncomfortable guess. “...you a fan, doc?”

Gaster’s attention flickered to Sans and away again. He looked somehow...enamored. “/...After a fashion,/” he said, quietly.

“Mettaton!” Papyrus exclaimed, releasing him, “you were gone for so long!!”

“That’s showbiz,” Mettaton replied simply, though he sounded genuinely disappointed himself, smiling at Papyrus with that look that he had only for Papyrus. “I’ve missed you, darling...”

Papyrus smiled back at him, seeming to be only just holding back the urge to hug him again. After a moment, he failed to hold back any longer and dove into another embrace, crying, “I watched all your shows!!” Mettaton hugged him back tightly, pressing his cheek to Papyrus’ skull and smiling. Mettaton’s weight began to shift, and he’d just begun to sneak one of his knees upward to wrap his leg around Papyrus’ own when Sans cleared his throat loudly and the two of them split, each of them blushing slightly and Papyrus looking away with a bright smile. Mettaton’s circuitry was humming warmly.

“Sans!” the robot said, recovering his cool quickly as he turned toward the other skeleton. “Good to see you. And…” His eyes drifted to the figure hovering behind him. “Your new friend.”

“Oh!” Papyrus exclaimed. Mettaton blinked as Papyrus abruptly ushered him forward into the room with a hand on each shoulder. “Mettaton! Meet Doctor Gaster!”

Mettaton blinked at the dark figure in front of him. Gaster seemed to be trying his best to remain upright and presentable, though Sans for one could tell he was still, in a small way, fighting the urge to flee the room. Despite his haggard appearance, Gaster smiled admiringly at Mettaton, trembling hands clasped together in front of him.

Mettaton glanced him over curiously, lingering a moment on the stranger’s long dark coat, which seemed to somehow prevent the robot from telling him anything about what was beneath it. To Mettaton, he was like a pocket of shadows, darkness condensed into an at least somewhat solid shape. He couldn’t even get a body heat reading off the man. Nonetheless, he was a friend of Papyrus’, and, Mettaton assumed from the starstruck look the stranger was giving him, a fan.

“It’s always a pleasure to meet a fan, darling,” he said, extending a hand to the monster.

Gaster hesitated, nervously, then he took the hand in his own, leaning down close over it, examining it with interest. Mettaton smiled at the man, til Papyrus pat his shoulder and he glanced back at him. “Frisk found Doctor Gaster in Snowdin! He was down there all alone.”

“Is that so?”

“But now he’s staying with us, til he’s ready to go out on his own!” Papyrus leaned in close and whispered, though it was loud enough to be heard by all. “He likes my cooking.”

Mettaton grinned briefly. “Of course he does,” he purred, “you’re an excellent chef.”

Papyrus blushed and glanced at his feet sheepishly. “You really think so?”

Mettaton leaned toward Papyrus slightly, moving to kiss his cheek.

_Tink._

Mettaton blinked. His head swung back around quickly, staring at Gaster who still stood, looking somewhat frantic, in front of him. The monster was still holding Mettaton’s hand in one of his own skeletal palms, but the other hand held a miniscule screwdriver and his skull was tipped downward, looking worriedly at the pinky finger lying on the floor near the hem of his coat. Mettaton’s stare flicked from Gaster, to the finger, and finally to his hand--now one finger shy of its usual count.

“...what...did you…?”

“Doctor!” Papyrus said with concern, stepping around Mettaton quickly and leaning down to retrieve the finger. “What did you do that for??”

Gaster was muttering anxiously, fumbling with the screwdriver in his hands til Sans stepped close enough to snatch it off him. He gave Sans a brief wounded look and then looked back at Mettaton, flustered and (presumably) apologetic--Mettaton couldn’t catch a word of what he was saying.

Papyrus had straightened up and was leaning in close over Mettaton’s hand, trying to figure out how Gaster had managed to separate the pinky from the rest of the fingers. Mettaton was so caught off guard by the absurdity of the act that for a moment he just stood, staring, offended and shocked, but finally he processed the situation and resumed his usual swagger. He tossed his head and smiled broadly. “Don’t worry, darling, don’t worry,” he cooed at Papyrus. “It’s only natural...When you’re famous, everyone wants a piece of you.” He glanced up from Papyrus and gave the doctor a mildly salacious look. “Behave, though, gorgeous. I’ll get you an autograph later, how’s that?”

Gaster was giving Mettaton a relatively helpless look, his hands trembling and twisting into shapes in front of him. After a moment, he clasped them tightly together and nodded. He glanced at Sans, who was giving him a deeply suspicious look, and sighed anxiously.

Papyrus straightened up, holding the finger out to Mettaton with an apologetic frown. “I-I don’t know what he did, Mettaton, I’m sorry. Alphys will have to fix it.”

Mettaton took the finger and looked at it with slight dismay before slipping it carefully into a compartment on his hip. “That’s..no problem, darling, I’m sure I can find time to visit her soon.” He lifted the hand, now shy one finger, and patted Papyrus’ cheek lightly. “Let’s just focus on tonight. I’ve been dying to spend the evening with you. Are you ready?”

“No!” Papyrus jumped suddenly. “I need some more time! I-I want to look nice!”

Mettaton grinned at him, trying not to laugh. “You already look fabulous, Papyrus,” he said, and meant it. “But I’m early, I know. Take your time. I’ll catch up with your brother and my new fan here.”

Papyrus returned Mettaton’s grin and hurried from the room into the hall. Mettaton turned back to Sans and Gaster, smiling with only slight discomfort. An awkward silence fell over the trio. “How have you been, Sans?” Mettaton managed at length.

“I’ve been better,” Sans remarked. Gaster was hovering still at his side, watching Mettaton with a deeply interested gaze. It was not lost on the robot.

Mettaton’s attention shifted to Gaster and he smiled at him sweetly. “A big fan, are you? Sans, did you tell your friend I was coming?”

“Uhh...no,” Sans said, still not sure what to make of this recent development. “It was a surprise. There’s a lot of surprises around here these days.”

Mettaton smiled and turned his attention back to Gaster again. “Well, well. This must be quite a day for you.” He noticed Gaster still giving Mettaton’s hand worrisome looks and waved him off with the other. “Don’t fret too much, darling, I know it’s hard for my fans to control themselves in my presence.” Gaster fidgeted a little, meeting Mettaton’s eyes again. Mettaton tipped his head slightly to one side, observing him curiously. “...quiet, aren’t you?”

“No one understands him but me and Pap,” Sans said, heading over to take a seat on the chair next to the couch. “He can talk, but you won’t understand him.” He reached for a book on the end table and pulled it into his lap.

Mettaton blinked, looking back at Gaster once more. Gaster opened his mouth and spoke a few words, but true to Sans’ description, Mettaton heard only a garbled echo. “What did he say?”

“What I said,” Sans muttered, flipping the book open to a dogeared page.

Mettaton regarded Gaster curiously. He was startled when the other monster came toward him suddenly, leaning in quite close and... _inspecting_ him. Sans watched, tensely, over the top of his book. Mettaton chuckled a little, feeling uncharacteristically awkward. “Can’t believe it’s really me? Well I assure you, darling, I’m the one and only.”

Gaster said something with earnest and Mettaton frowned uncertainly.

“Yeah, he is,” Sans said, having returned his attention to his book. “He’s asking if you’re Doctor Alphys’ work.”

“Oh,” Mettaton said, blinking. “Do you know Doctor Alphys?” Gaster hesitated, then shook his head slightly. Mettaton stepped back and placed a hand on Gaster’s arm (it was solid, yet soft, and not particularly warm nor cold), ushering him over to the couch to sit. They sat side by side, although Gaster sat a bit closer to Mettaton than he would have been preferred. Nonetheless, the robot was used to affectionate fans. “Well I am indeed her handiwork, darling...Doctor Alphys’ crowning achievement, really.” He smiled at Gaster, but couldn’t help feeling just a slight bit uncomfortable. Gaster was regarding him with a look that was...unfamiliar to him. It was a little too intense for Mettaton’s taste.

Sans was watching again over the top of his book, feeling tense and uncomfortable as Gaster continued to loom over Mettaton.

Gaster pointed with interest at Mettaton’s soul container and the bot smiled a bit awkwardly, brushing his fingers (those he had left) over the surface. “Yes, the good Doctor Alphys is really quite the visionary...Building a robot with an...artificial Soul. It’s quite an achievement.” Gaster gave Mettaton a curious and interested look, one that gave Mettaton a moment of uncertain pause, then he said something and Sans glanced up and translated uncomfortably from the chair.

“He says he remembers your debut,” Sans muttered. Gaster continued and after a brief pause, Sans translated the rest. “He really enjoyed that final episode in the Underground when you...transformed.”

Mettaton gave him a practiced smile. Generally, he loved being flattered by admirers, but Gaster was laying it on a little thick. “Well...Thank you, darling. That was one of my highest rated episodes. I’m not sure anyone was expecting my new body to be revealed so soon. Or for it to be so fabulous.” He laughed lightly, making a bit of a show of crossing one leg over the other and swinging it rhythmically.

Gaster said something else, eagerly, and Sans’ expression immediately responded with deep discomfort. “What the hell, doc…?”

Gaster turned quickly to look at Sans, growing flustered. Mettaton blinked, leaning over slightly to look past Gaster at the skeleton. Sans resisted the urge to squirm in his seat, meeting Mettaton’s baffled gaze uncomfortably.  “...he’s asking to see the blueprints for your body.”

Mettaton blinked, flushing as he glanced back at Gaster, just as the doctor himself turned to face him again as well. “N-now now, that’s a bit personal…”

Gaster seemed briefly dismayed, but it didn’t dampen his enthusiasm much. Mettaton lifted his hand to brush uncomfortably at his bangs and immediately found his palm being clasped in the trembling hands of the doctor. Sans cleared his throat loudly and sat up in the chair and Gaster immediately released Mettaton, looking guilty.

Mettaton smiled awkwardly, carefully putting together the pieces of Gaster’s behavior in the only way that made sense. "...now look, darling, I'm really very flattered by all this, but if you’re _interested_ , I must tell you that my heart already belongs to someone else..."

Gaster appeared somewhat startled by this revelation. He blinked and shook his head.

Mettaton leaned away from him a bit, continuing, "I'm sorry for any confusion I might have caused. We’ve kept it rather private, but I thought Papyrus would have told you...I’m really very committed to him."

Gaster gave a small jolt and Sans put his book down with a thud.

Mettaton leaned further away, eying Gaster. "...w-...we've been dating a few months now, believe it or not."

"/Papyrus...!!/" Gaster exclaimed, rising suddenly as Papyrus came around the corner from the hall. Gaster rushed forward to meet him and Sans abruptly got up and followed. Mettaton blinked, startled.

Papyrus too was startled as Gaster descended upon him. The other monster reached out his hands, taking Papyrus’ skull in between his own. "O-oh!” Papyrus yelped in surprise. “Doctor??" Sans tensed as he came to stand at his brother’s side, but said nothing, watching carefully.

"/Is it true?/” Gaster asked, frantic. “/That you are dating?/"

"Umm…” Papyrus blinked, glancing past him at Mettaton, though he couldn’t move his face for how Gaster had clasped it so tightly. “Yes? It is true!” His voice softened, edged with concern. “What's wrong?"

Gaster made a frustrated sound, still clutching Papyrus’ face. "/H-how long? Why did no one tell me?/"

"A...few months?” Papyrus said with uncertainty. “I don't know, you never asked!"

"/M-months.../” Gaster stammered. He shook his head slightly, eyes scanning Papyrus’ face. “/H-how does your brother feel about this?/"

Sans cleared his throat loudly. "What's it matter to you, doc?"

Papyrus looked down at Sans, then back up at Gaster quickly. “A-are you alright, Doctor?"

Gaster reluctantly released Papyrus’ face but, immediately found purchase on his arm, still clinging to him a bit desperately with one hand, while he began signing with the other. "/Oh, Papyrus, I...just...didn't realize.../"

MTT cleared his throat, standing up stiffly.

Papyrus looked toward Mettaton and back to Gaster quickly, trying to step toward Mettaton, but Gaster followed him like an anxious animal. "We're...actually going on a date now,” he said uncomfortably, “so...I'm sorry...Sans?"

Gaster clutched tighter to his arm, signing faster with his free hand. "/Papyrus, wait--/"

Sans stepped up beside him stiffly. "Let him go, doc."

"/But--/"

“He’s going out with his boyfriend, let him go!”

Papyrus flinched at the way Gaster cringed away from Sans, shrinking closer to him. "M-maybe we should stay in tonight," Papyrus tried.

Mettaton immediately perked up, clutching his hands into fists. "What??” He took Papyrus’ free arm in his own, trying to urge him away from the other monster. “Papyrus, we have _plans_."

Papyrus looked at him, then to the arm Mettaton was clutching, and then to Gaster on his other side. "I-I know,” he muttered, “but I don't want to leave him like this. He's really upset."

Mettaton felt frustration beginning to bubble out of his confusion as Gaster very clearly tugged Papyrus (gently) in _his_ direction and away from Mettaton. "Yes darling,” he said, restraining his anger, “but it's got nothing to do with _us_ . At least I don’t see how it _could_. Sans will look after him."

Sans fists were clenched inside his pockets. "Right," he said stiffly.

Gaster clung nonetheless, with both hands now. He looked from Mettaton to Sans and back to Papyrus again, seeming very small and deeply desperate. "/Papyrus--/"

"DOC!" Sans nearly yelled.

“WHY DON’T WE STAY IN AND WATCH A MOVIE???”

All fell silent at Papyrus’ yell. No one moved. Papyrus stood, awkwardly stretched between Mettaton and Gaster, each holding an arm while Sans stood in front of his brother, staring in disbelief at what was happening in his own home.

With practiced professional aloofness, Mettaton patted Papyrus’ arm gently, though he shot an accusatory look past him at the doctor. "...if that’s what you really want, Papyrus.”

Gaster visibly relaxed on Papyrus’ other arm.

…

“Sans, your friend is...rather strange, isn’t he?”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

Mettaton’s expression soured. “...what exactly is his relationship to Papyrus?”

“If I knew, I’d tell you.”

“Where exactly did he COME from?”

“Exactly what Papyrus said. Frisk found him in Snowdin. Don’t know much more than that. Nobody does, apparently.”

Sans had put his face back in his book, slouched down in his chair. Mettaton sat on the couch, one leg crossed over the other and swinging now with agitation. Popcorn was popping in the kitchen (on the stovetop, thanks to _someone_ who’d taken apart the microwave), where Papyrus and Gaster were preparing snacks for the movie night that was to replace Papyrus and Mettaton’s date. Mettaton was unable to hide his obvious agitation at having his long-awaited date night torn away from him.

“Well he certainly is fond of Papyrus, isn’t he?” he asked bitterly.

“...you jealous?” Sans muttered.

“I’m concerned,” Mettaton spat, glancing at Sans. The skeleton didn’t respond. “I thought he was flirting with ME, and that was bad enough. You really don’t know ANYTHING about him?”

“I know he’s a pain in the ass.”

Mettaton frowned, leaning back into the cushion behind him and silently lamenting Papyrus’ inexplicable ability to see the best in everyone.

Mettaton looked up quickly as Papyrus stepped back into the room, but immediately bristled when Gaster appeared behind him, catching the other skeleton by the arm. Papyrus turned to look at him and somewhat reluctantly allowed himself to be drawn back out of sight into the kitchen. Gaster’s voice could be heard at the closest he could manage to a whisper, the voice sounding warped and backwards and distorted to Mettaton’s ears. “What is he saying?”

Sans was still staring at his book, but it was clear he wasn’t reading. “...he’s asking permission to join us for the evening.”

“What??”

Papyrus returned to the room with the popcorn in one arm, the other hand now grasping Gaster’s arm instead of the alternative. Mettaton watched with acute distress as Papyrus sat down at his side and the amorphous shape of the other monster drifted down to sit beside him. Sans had glanced up from his work just briefly, giving Gaster a cool, measured glance, before he returned his attention to the book he clearly wasn’t reading.

“Doctor Gaster is going to join us!” Papyrus announced, smiling at Mettaton as though this were the best news he had heard all week.

Mettaton regarded Papyrus mildly, glancing past him at Gaster, who had turned his attention on Sans with interest, though Sans was ignoring him. “...darling, I was...hoping for a bit more intimate an evening, even if we do have to stay in…”

Papyrus blinked. “...but Sans is already here.”

“W-well yes, but…” Mettaton had grown fairly used to Sans chaperoning their dates when they were at the brothers’ house. As long as Mettaton behaved, Sans often drifted off within the first hour and it was as if he wasn’t there at all after that point. Gaster on the other hand...

Papyrus gave Mettaton a somewhat pleading smile, holding the bowl of popcorn tightly. “Please? Doctor Gaster’s very interested in you!”

Mettaton gave Papyrus a wary look. Fan though Gaster may be, it was clear Mettaton wasn’t the one who had caught the monster’s eye. “...honey, I don’t think I’m the one he’s interested in.”

Papyrus tipped his head a bit, misunderstanding. Mettaton watched Gaster’s attention swing back round toward them and abruptly sat back to be out of the monster’s line of sight. “...however, I...could be wrong. ...Whatever you want, Papyrus. As long as I’m with you, I can’t complain.”

Papyrus beamed, quickly tugging his long gangly legs up onto the couch and snuggling up against Mettaton’s side. Mettaton obligingly wrapped an arm around Papyrus and gave Gaster a somewhat protective look in the process.

Sans glanced up as Gaster gave the two a mildly distressed look and then settled back into the couch himself, a good foot of space now left between he and Papyrus. He was signing, almost unnoticed, just barely moving his hands enough to form the archaic shapes.

“/But Sans, it’s cold outside,/” he murmured, glancing at the other skeleton with discomfort. Sans stared back at him, feeling the mildly nauseating little hiccup of discomfort from Gaster’s jumping the gun in a conversation he hadn’t started yet.

“Old man,” Sans managed, shifting his weight and pushing himself forward in the chair til his feet touched the floor. “Walk with me.”

Gaster stood with slow reluctance and Papyrus looked up with concern. Sans gave his brother a dismissive wave as he tossed the book down in the chair and walked past with Gaster drifting behind him. “Gonna get some air, bro. We’ll be back.” He gave Mettaton a precursory raised brow. “Behave.”

Mettaton smiled coyly in reply. “You know I will, Sans.” He mouthed ‘thank you’ and Sans stuffed his hands in his pockets and opened the front door with a ripple of blue light, stepping out into the cool night air with Gaster’s shadow over him.

...

“You’re trying my patience, old man.”

Gaster looked up slowly. He had been silent since they’d left the house, though he’d noticeably glanced back on a few occasions. His hands were still now, one gently clasping the other. Sans didn’t look at him, but he could feel the other monster watching him, his presence like a patch of darkness in the late afternoon daylight. “/Have I done something wrong?/”

Sans glanced back at him now and Gaster stopped walking abruptly, wringing his hands a little in front of him. “...why are you always following Papyrus around?” Sans asked. “Are you interested in him? Cuz he’s got a thing for the robot, I dunno if you noticed.”

Gaster tipped his head to one side, and the look of mild distress crossed his features again. “/He’s so young.../”

Sans grimaced a little. “Yeah, too young for you, doc.”

Gaster glanced up quickly, blinking. “/...too young for...me?/” He laughed suddenly, the hauntingly layered sound of it filling the empty autumn air. “/Oh dear, no...no./”

Sans watched him closely, taking a step back when Gaster came up to him and laid a hand gently on his shoulder. “/You are gravely mistaken, Sans...You and Papyrus are...like family to me./”

“Like family? Me AND Papyrus?” Sans said with skeptical frustration. “You’ve only known us like a WEEK, doc. And to be frank, you sure seem to spend a lot more time doting on Papyrus than me.”

Gaster smiled a bit sadly. His free hand worked itself in a few quick signs and Sans frowned at it before looking up at him again. “/I’m sorry, I...You’ve both been so kind to me. But...You, Sans, have not seemed to want my attention,/” Gaster answered quietly. “/I did not want to seem forward./”

“I have a hard time imagining you being any more forward than you already are,” Sans muttered.

Gaster looked suitably embarrassed by this and withdrew his hand from Sans’ shoulder, cupping it under his other palm. “/I should have realized,/” he said quietly. “/I hope I have not upset Papyrus’...his…/”

“Boyfriend.”

“/Yes,/” Gaster murmured, touching his fingers to his forehead. He glanced back at the house again with distress and then looked down at the foot of his coat. Sans watched him, frowning uncertainly. Gaster didn’t care to be outside during the day, not when there were likely to be other humans out and about. The block they’d walked from the doorstep might as well have been a mile. He was getting more anxious as the seconds ticked by.

“You come on kinda strong, old man, you know that,” Sans said. “I mean, Mettaton was pretty damn well convinced you were hitting on him too.”

Gaster looked up quickly, seeming startled. “/W-what? But I was only...He’s a marvel of engineering, I just...Oh dear, I’ve gotten worse over the years, haven’t I…/”

Sans tilted his head a little. So Gaster was interested in Mettaton’s engineering, not his...everything else. That at least made somewhat more sense than how it had appeared. The monster was notoriously interested in just about any sort of technological advances. It didn’t exactly ease Sans’ mind much, but at least Gaster didn’t seem to be lying. Or if he was, he was good at it.

“So that’s why you’re a fan of Mettaton, isn’t it? He’s a piece of technology to take apart.”

“/O-oh dear, no,/” Gaster said, growing flustered again. “/I-I mean, yes, that is why I am...a fan. But I would never dream of...taking him apart...Not without his permission, of course.../”

Sans grimaced at him uncertainly. “Doc…”

Gaster sighed loudly, signing a few things as he glanced back at the house again. “/I promise you, Sans, I harbor no ill intentions toward your brother or his...boyfriend. I am...happy for them...It is none of my business to interfere./”

Sans watched Gaster quietly, watched his hands as they made their shapes and then returned to clasping one another. “You’re hiding things from me, old man,” Sans said quietly, “and I don’t like it.”

Gaster squirmed a little. “/...can we go back inside? I’ll...I’ll let them be. I’m cold./” A car door slammed somewhere, several blocks away, and Gaster jumped and cowered away.

...

Gaster seemed to be behaving himself, to Sans’ relief. He was sitting at Papyrus’ side, but he had given the couple some space and was making a significant effort to keep to himself. Though it took some time, Mettaton seemed to finally relax, and he and Papyrus had settled comfortably into one another’s arms as the movie progressed. As if on cue, about thirty minutes in Sans began to drift and before long was fast asleep slumped back into the chair with his book in his lap.

With Sans asleep and Gaster behaving himself, Mettaton had almost forgotten that the other two were even there. It had been weeks since he had been able to see Papyrus, and frankly, despite the fact that their date had fallen through, there was something immensely comforting about cuddling up against the skeleton’s side, even if he had to put aside most of the rest of what he had wanted for the evening. He smiled to himself. He wasn’t even certain what had happened in the movie so far, he’d been so engrossed in the feeling of having Papyrus at his side. He felt the skeleton take his hand and squeezed it gently. The thrill of touring, of performing, was one thing, but there was certainly something to be said for the quiet comfort of being in the embrace of someone he loved…

Mettaton sighed and Papyrus looked at him with a smile. He returned the look before leaning in to kiss Papyrus with affection between the eyes. The skeleton blushed and grinned and bumped his forehead against Mettaton’s gently.

It was about this time that Mettaton noticed Papyrus’ hands. Both of them. On the popcorn bowl in his lap.

And the unmistakable feeling of his own hand, being held, by someone else.

“P-Papyrus, darling, would you lean forward a moment?”

Papyrus blinked. “Like this?” He leaned forward, and Mettaton looked past him, to see Doctor Gaster hovering over his hand with a tiny screwdriver and several other tools pinched between his fingers.

Mettaton abruptly yanked back on his arm, causing the doctor to instinctively clutch at the hand he was poking at, and with a crack and a pop, Mettaton’s hand separated from his arm and the robot gave a startled and distressed yell, throwing the whole room into chaos.

Sans woke with a start, throwing his book inadvertently across the room. Papyrus jumped up, turning round quickly to see Gaster fumbling with the hand and several pieces of it that had snapped off when it was broken. Mettaton threw himself into the far arm of the couch, clutching at his broken wrist and shouting a series of questions and obscenities.

“D-doctor??” Papyrus reached for him, and the hand. “W-what did you do?? Why did you do that??”

Gaster fumbled still, holding the main piece of the hand, though several bits from the interior had tumbled out of the wrist where it was broken. He was muttering apologies and several “oh dear”s as Papyrus reached for the hand and tried to take it from him. But even as Papyrus did, he clutched onto it tighter and tugged it in toward himself slightly. Papyrus blinked and immediately gave him an accusatory, “Doctor!!”

Gaster looked up at him sharply, guiltily, and released it. Papyrus stumbled back a little with the hand in his own, several more tiny screws falling out and to the floor. Sans was staring, unable to completely process what was happening in the midst of Mettaton’s yelling.

Frantic and ashamed, Gaster shambled to his feet, gave each of them an uncomfortable look, and quickly shuffled out of the room to his own.

…

“Sans, can you hand that to me? No, no...the other...Yes! Thank you.”

The young Gaster smiled, taking the tool as it was handed to him. Sans grinned up at his father, rocking on his heels. He was growing; he was nearly at Gaster’s waist now, although Papyrus was fast catching up to him. To Gaster’s amusement, Sans’ long white coat, swiped from the supply at the main lab, still touched the ground even when he stood up straight. “Need any help?” Sans asked, with a tone that implied he clearly believed Gaster did.

Gaster gave him a curious smile and turned back to his work. “Does it look like I need help?” he asked.

“You always need help, Dad. Don’t ya want a little Sans-istance?” Sans grinned broadly and Gaster sputtered out a laugh and glanced back at him with a smile.

“...Here, come take a look at this.”

“/I’m dreaming again,/” Gaster murmured, watching as his younger self moved aside to allow Sans to take a look at what he was doing at the workbench. He smiled faintly. “/Oh Sans...I had never expected him to be so clever. And so bold. He was made from me, and yet he was so much that I was not. He made me laugh./” Gaster hesitated, watching his younger self laugh again as Sans  struggled to read his chicken-scrawled notes in Wingdings and failed miserably. “/I’d never laughed much before he came along. I’d never worked so hard, either. He encouraged me. Inspired me./”

“We exhausted ourselves working so much,” the younger Gaster said, pointing out a component of the machine that was opened up on his bench. Sans leaned in closer, inspecting it closely.

Gaster smiled to himself, fiddling with his hands, with the hole in his left palm. “/Papyrus changed that./”

As though on cue, a young Papyrus came bounding into sight and up to the other two with a book clutched to his chest. He was tiny still, smaller than Sans, and wore a striped shirt and long shorts that hung loose on his slight frame. He jumped on his tip-toes when he reached them and Sans twisted to grin at him over his shoulder. “You two need to stop working!” Papyrus scolded, holding his book out importantly. “Someone’s got to read me my story!”

“Oh dear, how late is it?” the young Gaster murmured, looking about for a clock and finding none.

“/I never did remember to put a clock in that lab,/” Gaster said to himself.

Sans turned fully and scooped his brother up in his arms, book and all with a chuckle. “Didja’ think we forgot about you, bro?”

“You’d forget about everything if it wasn’t for me!!” Papyrus declared. The younger Gaster smiled and turned toward his sons, placing a hand on Sans’ head and leaning down to tap his forehead against Papyrus’ affectionately, apologetically.

Gaster interlaced his trembling fingers, watching. His past had never felt so far away.

Papyrus quieted and smiled up at his father, reaching for him with one arm til Sans passed him up to Gaster, taking the book from his arms in the process. The young Gaster shifted Papyrus into one arm and headed for the little lab’s door with Sans at his heels, flipping through the picture book in his hands.

“/He was so SMALL,/” Gaster murmured. “/I could hold him in one arm...My little child.../”

“Time has passed,” the young Gaster said quietly as he passed by his double.

Gaster watched them, watched the tiny Papyrus lean trustingly into his younger self’s shoulder. He was barely the size that Frisk was now. So small, cradled in his father’s arms, beaming with excitement. Did Papyrus still trust him so implicitly? Even without knowing who he was, did Papyrus still trust so easily and so faithfully? “/Not that much time,/” Gaster murmured. “/He is still my child. My little child./”

“He’s not your child,” the young Gaster said, though his back was to his elder self. “He’s not your anything. Not any more.”

Gaster glanced down, tracing the edges of hole in his left hand. Surely Papyrus still trusted him. Surely he could still feel something of that unwavering faith he had in his father; faith that his father would protect him, would care for him, would never...hurt him. “/He will always be my child.../”

“That which does not exist can have no children.”

Gaster looked up at himself slowly. The door at the end of the room opened with an automatic SWOOSH as the young scientist stepped up to it. He passed through it silently, and Sans paused behind him, glancing back at the worktable, at the unfinished project and blueprints they’d left there. Sans turned to go, and for a moment, the briefest of moments, he seemed to meet Gaster’s gaze. Then Sans reached up to the switch on the wall, shutting off the lights, and leaving Gaster in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another round of enormous thanks to my editor, Grunklebill, without whom this fic would literally not be written (I'm helpless on my own). A brief note here to indicate that I am currently in the process of moving, so I will be taking a brief hiatus from writing. However, the next chapter is already mostly drafted, so hopefully it won't be too long til I'm back to updating.


	5. The Recluse

Mettaton stayed late with Sans and Papyrus that night, trying to get ahold of Alphys (with no success). Eventually, despite the robot’s fear and agitation, Papyrus convinced him to stay the night so that they could make sure they found all the pieces to his hand in the daytime. Reluctant to leave Papyrus’ side or go anywhere near the room where Gaster had disappeared to, Mettaton stubbornly plugged his charging cable in right there at the couch, and he and Papyrus settled down for the night together there. Sans, having lost his ‘bed’ as a result, collapsed down in the chair, exhausted and yet wide awake, his eyes on the door in the hall.

Despite the hour, Sans turned to texting Toriel out of insomniatic frustration, and to his relief she was still awake. They talked a while, Sans sitting in the dark, the only light in the room the dim glow of his cell phone. But eventually he drifted off, head tipped back against the arm of the chair. He had had the faint sensation that at some point in the night he had heard doors opening and closing...But it might have been a dream.

When Toriel knocked on the door the next morning, the entire household was fast asleep.

Sans started awake at her third knock, blinking sleepily and sliding out of the chair to drag himself over to the door. He opened it with a flick of his hand and a glimmer of blue light, staring blearily up as Toriel smiled down at him. 

“Good morning, lazybones,” she said with affection.

Frisk, who was standing at Toriel’s side, slipped past Sans with a quick smile and a greeting while Toriel leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Did I wake you?”

“Yeah,” Sans said, grinning sleepily. “But don’t worry about it. It’s about time I slowed down...I was pretty _fast_ asleep in there.”

Toriel giggled and straightened up again. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m here,” she said. “A little food might help you _brake_ fast-er.” Sans put a hand to his mouth, stifling his laugh as she grinned down at him proudly. She was laden with several small tote bags slung over one arm and was dressed in curve-hugging jeans and a loose-fitted sweater. Sans felt like he’d never been happier to see her.

“Still chaperoning Papyrus and Mettaton, I see,” she went on as she stepped inside the room, smiling at Papyrus, asleep on his back, and Mettaton, sprawled quite contentedly across him, his charging cord extending from a panel on his back over the back of the sofa and to the wall.   
Sans watched her, smiling warmly as he shut the door and turned to follow. 

“Of course. What kind of big brother would I be if I wasn’t tagging along on my little bro’s dates, annoying the hell outta his botfriend?”

Toriel laughed quietly. “Well,” she said, “in that case, I hate to wake them…” She turned to Sans as he stepped up beside her, brushing the soft pad of her paw against his skull. Sans sighed and smiled, leaning into her touch gently. He’d missed her more than he’d realized.

“The kid...didn’t bring the flower,” he said after a moment, realizing slowly that Frisk had vanished from sight.

Toriel hesitated, biting at her lower lip. “Yes, well. He’s with Asgore,” she said, stiffly. “I sent Frisk to take him over this morning. I thought it best, after everything you’ve told me about the Doctor. I would hate for Flowey to frighten him.” Toriel turned to look down at him, tilting her head a little. Her brows were knit with concern. “Are you sure this is...alright though, Sans? My visiting without your warning him? I don’t want to scare the man.” She chuckled quietly, uncomfortably, but her smile faded when she looked down at Sans again. Sans was looking at the door in the hall (open just a crack) his expression haggard and...somewhat hostile. “...are you well, Sans?” Toriel asked quietly. “You look tired.”

Sans looked up at her quickly and forced a smile. “I’m fine, Tori...But listen, about the doctor…”

Gaster’s door was flung open suddenly and Frisk came spilling out into the hall, tugging Gaster along by the hand as they had when they’d first found him in Snowdin. Toriel blinked, watching as the stranger stumbled after Frisk, his eyes immediately locking on Toriel with an expression of abject fear and panic. Sans watched tensely, his body tightening.

Toriel raised a hand to beckon Frisk nearer, her ears twitching a bit with curiosity. “Oh Frisk, dear, did you wake the poor man up…?”

“He was already awake!” Frisk said, smiling up at her. “He was taking apart the alarm clock.”

“AGAIN?” Sans choked.

Gaster gave Sans a quick guilty look and then turned back to Toriel quickly. He was tugging gently on Frisk’s hand, shrinking as far back as he could manage from Toriel while the child still held him in place. Toriel smiled for him gently, motioning to Frisk again and touching the child’s head gently to get them to release the monster’s hand. Once they did Gaster immediately tugged his hand in against his chest, clutching it with the other and eying Toriel with fear.

Toriel offered the stranger the most amiable smile she could manage. “Hello, Doctor, it’s nice to meet you,” she said as cautiously as possible since he looked as though he might flee now that his hand was free. “I don’t mean to startle you so early in the morning. Sans invited me. I am Toriel, and I am told you are Doctor Gaster.”

Gaster trembled and shrank back from her still, staring Toriel in the eye with the look of a cornered animal. He blurted out a few words suddenly, signed something, and then shuffled back several steps, breaking eye contact with Toriel to look away anxiously.

Sans sighed loudly. Gaster fidgeted, looking down at the floor. Toriel’s mouth opened a little and Sans cleared his throat and offered a rough translation, “He wants to know what you’re doing here...then he apologized and called you ‘your majesty’.”

“Oh,” Toriel murmured. She glanced back at Gaster quickly, still managing a kind smile. Gaster was avoiding her eyes. “Please don’t be so formal, call me Toriel...And I just came over to make you boys some breakfast. Would you care for something to eat?”

Gaster looked up at her again, a little dumbfounded, then his attention shifted to Frisk who was now standing at Toriel’s side, leaning on her hip gently. Toriel placed her paw gently on Frisk’s shoulder. Gaster murmured a question, glancing at Sans for its answer. Sans nodded. “Tori looks after the kid when they’re not here with us.”

“She’s my _mom_ ster,” Frisk said, grinning up at Gaster. Sans chuckled in spite of himself and Gaster glanced at him, tilting his head with curiosity. He signed something silently with one hand and when Frisk reached out to him, he nervously offered the hand to them. They hooked their fingers through the hole in his palm and he breathed in deeply and out again, relaxing ever-so-slightly.

“I really am sorry to startle you, Doctor,” Toriel said quietly. “Would you like some breakfast though?”

Gaster looked up again at Toriel, still looking timid and fearful although his panic seemed to have subsided. He spoke a few words to Sans and Sans gave him a quiet glare before looking at Toriel again slowly. “You can’t use the microwave, T. Someone took it apart yesterday.” Gaster looked away again, signing uncomfortably with one hand while Frisk continued to hold the other.

Toriel looked from Sans to Gaster, blinking. “W-well, I shouldn’t need the microwave. Frisk, would you like to help me?” Frisk released Gaster, giving him an inviting smile before they bounded after Toriel as she headed for the kitchen. 

Sans glanced at Gaster, who, for the first time since he had come out from the hall, looked around the rest of the room and adopted an expression of utter distress at the sight of Papyrus and Mettaton’s entanglement upon the couch.

“None of your business, doc,” Sans said dryly, turning toward the kitchen.

Gaster sighed and drifted after him. “/None of my business, none of my business.../”

…

“So Doctor, how are you enjoying life on the Surface?”

Gaster glanced up at Toriel (unable to completely resist his impulse to lean away from her) as she set a plate in front of him, smiling. The kitchen smelled of warm cinnamon and syrup. Frisk, seated adjacent to him, was halfway thru a plate of French toast and Sans at the other end of the table was picking at his own ketchup-covered eggs, watching Gaster. Gaster spoke quietly and Sans translated for him, sounding bored: “He says it’s ‘different’. There’s a lot of people.”

Toriel smiled gently. “Well, that is true...I’m sure it must be a bit overwhelming for you. Sans said you’ve been alone for quite a while in the Underground. It takes its toll.”

Gaster nodded as Toriel returned, setting a place for herself and sitting down beside Frisk. “You needn’t be so afraid, though, none of us mean you any harm. Adjusting to life here on the Surface has been a group effort on everyone’s part. We are here to help one another. Oh Frisk, please chew your food.”

Frisk stuffed another forkful of french toast into their mouth and Gaster watched them curiously. Toriel turned toward Sans and smiled at him pityingly, reaching out one paw and placing it over his hand gently. He glanced up at her, his harsh stare melting into a weak smile. Then Gaster murmured something and Sans looked up again sharply, glaring. Toriel and Frisk both blinked, glancing from Gaster to Sans for a translation.

“...cut it out,” Sans said stiffly.

Gaster perked up, blinking. He said something else.

“Yeah, you did. Pay attention.”

Gaster murmured uncomfortably and began picking at his food, his eyes down.

Toriel and Frisk both looked at Sans curiously. Sans waved a hand and then lowered his chin into his free palm. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” he lied, none too eager to have to tell Toriel that their unwanted houseguest had a habit of jumping ahead in conversations before they happened.

“Sans,” Toriel murmured with evident concern, squeezing his other hand gently.

Frisk turned back to Gaster, watching as he unenthusiastically prodded at his food. “Doctor Gaster, have you got plans for today?”

Gaster glanced at Sans with discomfort, then spoke quietly and shook his head. Toriel looked from Gaster to Sans curiously, noticing the slight and almost imperceptible nod of begrudging approval that Sans made. 

“Do you wanna go for a walk with me and Mom?” Frisk continued, leaning forward on the table. “We were gonna go to the park where Sans works and I thought you could come with us. Papyrus said you haven’t hardly left the house since you got here.”

Gaster stared at Frisk, looking as though he’d just been asked whether or not he’d like to jump off a bridge. He turned to Sans helplessly, clearly looking for an out. Sans stared back, mildly surprised that Gaster would turn to _him_ for help. Sans cleared his throat quietly and looked from Frisk to Toriel. “The old man doesn’t really go outside…not during the day at least.” He gave Gaster a look and the monster glanced away uncomfortably.

Toriel spoke up quickly but quietly, leaning a little closer to the doctor (he immediately leaned further away). “It’s not far from here and there generally aren’t many people out this time of day. We thought you might like to see it. Trust me, Doctor, if you have the opportunity to go outside on a day like this, you ought to...The Surface is a lovely place. And we’ll be with you.”

Gaster hedged a bit still, but he was outnumbered, and had no way of making up an excuse without having it filtered thru Sans (who was still staring him down from across the table). He swallowed and shrunk away a little still, looking down at his food. When he nodded, it was barely more than a tiny jerk of his head.

...

Gaster was clearly uncomfortable, but he was trying, which was more than Sans really expected from the monster. He clung to Frisk’s hand so hard that several times Toriel had to quietly ask him to ease his grip. He continued to shy away from the woman and jump at every sound of life and tremble when he saw another human or monster within a hundred feet of him, but somehow Gaster made it all the way to the park without fleeing for the house.

Toriel was right, at least. There were few humans or monsters out so early. In fact, Sans could only see one other monster in the park proper: Doggo was throwing a stick around with a couple of energetic non-magic pups who were darting in circles around him, barking excitedly. A German Shepherd stood at attention at the monster’s side, continually retrieving the non-moving stick as the pups dropped it and returning it to Doggo’s hand when he struggled to find it. A few humans were out jogging, music players strapped to their arms. They would glance at the monsters with interest, or curiosity, or fear--but then quickly look away and continue on their way.

They were walking the path that ran along the outside of the field where the playground Frisk frequented with their friends was located when Toriel placed her hand on Sans’ shoulder. “Sans, sit with me,” she said gently.

He looked up at her quickly. She was motioning to a bench at the side of the path. Sans gaped at her a moment, then turned quickly toward Gaster and Frisk, who were still walking, albeit slowly, ahead of them. “Tori--”

“Sans,” Toriel said, with that tone that meant she was serious. Sans gave her a helpless, worried look, but he reluctantly stepped back with her, turning to watch Gaster and Frisk as Toriel led him to the bench and sat, beckoning him to sit beside her. “You’ve gotten yourself far too worked up about this.”

“You don’t get it, Tori,” Sans muttered. “You just met him. He’s trouble. He practically tried to dismantle Mettaton last night.”

“So you’ve told me. Sans, in my opinion, he’s a very smart monster with very bad social skills,” Toriel said, leaning back. “He’s certainly not the first of his kind. Doctor Alphys comes to mind.”

“Alphys doesn’t--” Sans caught himself and frowned, watching Gaster. He was still clinging to Frisk’s hand as they lead him to the edge of a little stream that ran parallel to the path. “...Alphys would never really HURT someone. I mean, not on purpose.”

Toriel tipped her head a little. One ear gently spilled over her shoulder. “And Gaster would?”

Sans sighed loudly. Going into the list of reasons why Gaster troubled him was more than he could bear at the moment. But Toriel was smart. She was intuitive and clever and strong. Her opinion had weight to it. Maybe he was overreacting…

Toriel scooted closer and extended an arm around his shoulders. Sans leaned gratefully into her side. “Tori, I’m so tired…”

Toriel rubbed his shoulder gently with her paw. “Hello, ‘So Tired’, I’m Toriel…”

Sans chuckled weakly and buried his face in her side with a grin. She pressed him tightly to her side.

...

“Sometimes Undyne helps me catch little fish here,” Frisk said quietly, hunkering down by the water’s edge. “It’s too cold for fish now though.”

Gaster looked down at them, fully aware that his hand was trembling in the child’s grip. He turned his attention slowly to the stream, watching the water flowing around and over the smooth stones of the streambed. Here and there, the surface caught the sunlight and sparkled blindingly.

“Do you like it?” Frisk asked, glancing up at him. “Even without the fish, it’s pretty.”

Gaster glanced back at them. He signed something brief with his free hand and nodded. He couldn’t tell Frisk how terrified he was, how overwhelming everything was, how much he feared existing in a world that had specifically built itself around his non-existence...But he did like it. Behind all those other feelings rushing through his consciousness, he liked it.

Frisk smiled up at him and he managed a small smile in return, hunkering down a bit to be more at their level. Frisk squeezed his hand and glanced back at the stream again. “This is my favorite place,” they said. “Besides Mom’s house. I can buy hotdogs from Sans here after school. And in the Summer I can climb the trees and play with the dogs out in the field. Monster Kid comes over sometimes and we go hunting for bugs in the woods.” Frisk turned to look out over the park. Gaster followed their gaze, growing a little tense when he noticed a human jogging on one of the paths. 

“I didn’t used to like the world very much,” Frisk said carefully. Gaster glanced down at them again slowly. “A lot of people can be scary...” They turned to look at Gaster. “But you know, not everyone is. There’s a lot of good people in the world. People like Sans and Papyrus...and Mom. And me.” Frisk paused, watching him. “People who won’t hurt you.”

Gaster stared at the child, squeezing their hand gently. He perked and almost tipped over backward as Frisk suddenly moved in close and slipped their hand free from his to stretch both arms out around him in a hug. His back went stiff, trembling while the tiny child embraced him as best they could. For a moment, he feared he might collapse in their embrace. Then, slowly, and with great trepidation, he laid his hands on the child’s back, and held Frisk close as they hugged him.

...

Mettaton was sitting on the kitchen counter, holding a cellphone in one hand--his only hand. He was staring at the broken stump of his right wrist with agitation, talking with frustration under his breath. "It was not my fault! Why must you assume that everything that ever happens to this body is MY fault? ... Yes, I'm very much aware of that, Alphys, you don't have to remind me. But I swear to you! Papyrus and Sans have some sort of madman living with them! ... No, I did not provoke him!! This is serious! ... I'll be there tonight and you can see for yourself, alright? ... Of course. See you then."

Mettaton laid the phone down with a soft crack and frowned down at the broken hand laying on the counter beside him. 

He heard the front door open and close again and he looked up sharply, frowning. His system had booted up when Papyrus woke just a half hour or so earlier. Together, they had gathered up the last few screws and assorted parts of his hand that had fallen under the couch and between the cushions. There had been no sign of Sans or Gaster til Papyrus found a note in his brother’s unmistakable hand next to a plate of french toast in the kitchen.

Now Papyrus was getting cleaned up in his room and Mettaton sat, agitatedly swinging a leg, as he listened to footfalls in the living room. He took a breath and felt his system warming as he forced a smile, leaning back on the counter slightly. “Frisk. Darling," he said as Frisk came around the corner. "How good to see you."

Mettaton tensed as Gaster lumbered after Frisk, his hand still gently clasped by theirs. The monster looked up sharply with embarassed distress at Mettaton’s voice and quickly looked away again, shrinking back. "Hi Mettaton," Frisk said, though they glanced up at Gaster when he began tugging gently at his hand. “Doctor?” Gaster tugged his hand free, gave Frisk a quick apologetic glance and Mettaton a brief uncomfortable, but somehow still...hungry look, and then withdrew quickly out of sight and down the hall.

Mettaton relaxed visibly as Gaster passed out of view, then he looked back at Frisk with a waning grin. "Darling, do be careful. You know you have the strangest taste in friends..."

Mettaton didn’t stay for much longer now that Gaster was back in the house. Once Papyrus had finished cleaning up, he gathered up the pieces of his broken hands and bid the skeleton a reluctant, yet passionate, farewell on the front lawn. Frisk watched from the window, propped up on the back of the couch, til Toriel, still lingering on the front steps with Sans, noticed them there and quickly moved to block their view.

When Papyrus came back inside several minutes later, sighing, Gaster was seated on the couch in the living room with Frisk on the floor just in front of him. The two of them were watching a re-run of one of Mettaton’s live shows, one Papyrus had recorded several weeks earlier. Gaster was unable to hide his acute interest, but his awkward embarrassment was still bubbling near the surface as he glanced up at Papyrus and away again quickly.

“Doctor?” Papyrus asked, and both heads turned to look at him. “Could I...Could we talk?”

Gaster fidgeted with his thumb against the hole in his left hand. But after a pause, he nodded uncomfortably and stood.

Since Sans and Toriel were still in front of the house, Papyrus took Gaster through the kitchen and out the back. They stood on the back porch, though Gaster lingered near the door, anxious to be back inside. The sound of the television could be heard, faintly, through the sliding glass door.

“Doctor,” Papyrus said, turning back toward him. “I know you’re...I know you like Mettaton very much. And that’s good! Liking things is good. And Mettaton is a very good thing to like.” He smiled encouragingly, but it faltered. “But, um...what you did…”

“/P-papyrus,/” Gaster stammered, brushing his back up against the glass door slightly. “/I’m so sorry, I know I was terribly out of line, I didn’t mean to...I-I mean I DID mean to, but I...I knew I shouldn’t and--”

Papyrus smiled at him gratefully, stepping closer and abruptly taking Gaster’s left hand. The monster shrunk a little, gazing up at Papyrus guiltily. “Doctor, it’s good that you apologized! You should have apologized to Mettaton though.”

Gaster smiled a little wryly and then looked away, clearly embarrassed about the whole ordeal. “/I doubt if he wants to speak to me,/” Gaster murmured. “/I’ve made an awful fool of myself and I must have given him a terrible fright.../” He signed a few symbols with his right hand and was startled to have Papyrus suddenly clutch that one as well.

Papyrus smiled sympathetically, tilting his head. “It’s okay, Doctor,” he said gently, squeezing the monster’s hands. “Mettaton is a big celebrity...A lot of his fans get flustered around him! Although, I’m kind of surprised, to be honest. I didn’t really think you were the type to be interested in Mettaton! He’s very...um...” Papyrus blushed, glancing upward in thought. Gaster glanced back at him meekly and Papyrus smiled to himself. “...glamorous. And you don’t really seem like the glamorous type.”

Gaster stared at him, withering.

“N-not that you can’t be a fan of his!!” Papyrus corrected himself quickly, smiling at the doctor. “I just mean...well, you never talk about celebrities or anything.”

Gaster smiled weakly. “/W-well, Papyrus, if you must know, I’m much less interested in Mettaton as a performer and much more interested in him as a...marvel of engineering.../”

Papyrus blinked. “Is that why you took his hand off?”

Gaster flailed slightly, freeing his hands from Papyrus’ grasp as he began gesturing with enthusiasm. “/The detail on his construction is incredible! The level of planning and preparation to build such a responsive bit of machinery, engineering that replicates organic matter so flawlessly and naturally.../”

Papyrus smiled at him, tipping his head a little to one side. “Doctor Alphys would love to hear that! She never gives herself enough credit...which is a real shame, because she is amazing!!” Papyrus paused and blinked, then quickly leaned in closer to the other monster. “You should tell her!! Undyne and I are going to video chat over the human internet tonight, you could talk to Doctor Alphys!!”

Gaster glanced back at Papyrus meekly. “/Papyrus, I’m not sure I’m ready--/”

“She could tell you all you wanted to know about Mettaton!”

Gaster stared at him, his pale skull flushed slightly with color. “/...w-when were you going to have this chat?/”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! Sorry for the delay! I am happy to say I am officially moved and back to writing. I am also happy to say that the next chapter will likely be up within the next few days! Then I'll be back to about the same rate of production as usual. In the meantime, enjoy getting a little closer to the man from the void...And as always, enormous thanks to grunklebill for their time and effort helping me make this happen.


	6. The Shadow

“Here Doctor, sit down, right there--that’s good!! And don’t be afraid because Doctor Alphys is our good friend and she made Mettaton! So you want to talk to her, right? So everything is okay!”

Gaster gave Papyrus a weak but appreciative smile, shifting his weight with mild discomfort as the other skeleton sat him down in an extra desk chair before taking a seat himself at the computer in his bedroom. Gaster was sitting slightly behind and to the right of Papyrus, where, he was glad to see, he had a perfect opportunity to duck out of the frame in either direction once the camera was on. He was determined to do otherwise, but...it was nice to know the option was still there.

Papyrus smiled and leaned forward, tapping at the keyboard as he finished setting up the video call. “Are you ready, Doctor?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

Gaster shrugged weakly. “/A-as I will ever be, Papyrus./” His hands were trembling in his lap.

Papyrus turned around and tapped out another word or two. Then he clicked an icon, and within a second the screen filled with black and was suddenly replaced with a video of a dark-skinned sea creature leaning in close to the camera and squinting with a single, golden eye.

“HEY PAPYRUS!!! IS IT WORKING??”

Gaster immediately shrunk behind Papyrus, whose shoulders bunched upward excitedly as he began waving at the screen. “Undyne!! Hello!!”

Gaster anxiously leaned back out from behind Papyrus, watching timidly as Undyne leaned back from the computer and grinned toothily into the camera. Gaster was familiar with Undyne by way of omniscience. But there was something vaguely confusing, and also...embarrassing about ‘meeting’ someone whose existence he was aware of from his time in the void. Having knowledge of someone without their consent left a bad taste in Gaster’s mouth; it made him feel intrusive, even if he hadn’t had a choice in the matter. He knew more about Undyne than he ought to, and she didn’t know it.

“Is that your new friend??” Undyne asked. She had a husky, hearty voice, and it seemed, only one volume: loud. Although Gaster knew that already. He sat as upright as possible, trying to look ‘presentable,’ though not quite knowing what that meant for him any more.

Papyrus smiled and leaned over more to allow Undyne to see Gaster on the screen in front of her. Gaster resisted the urge to duck away. “Yes! This is Doctor Gaster!! He really wants to meet Doctor Alphys. He’s a big fan of Mettaton!”

Gaster blinked and felt his face flush slightly as he dropped back into a hunch. Apparently he had yet to completely clear up Papyrus’ confusion regarding his interest in the robot. Marveled by engineering or not, Papyrus was still pegging him as a fan. Undyne’s expression shifted and she gave the doctor a mildly judgemental look, then shrugged, closing her eyes. “Surprise, surprise. ALPHYS, WHAT’RE YOU DOING?? PAP AND HIS FANBOY FRIEND ARE WAITING FOR YOU.”

Gaster flushed a little more and reached forward to paw at Papyrus’ shoulder gently. “/P-Papyrus, maybe this should wait.../”

Papyrus glanced back at him, smiling sheepishly. “Don’t mind Undyne, Doctor, she’s just teasing you. And she only teases people she likes! Most of the time. So she probably likes you!!”

Gaster blinked at him slowly but perked up a little as Alphys’ voice came through the speakers. “I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry…!”

For a moment, it was still just Undyne on screen. Then Undyne leaned down out of frame and when she came back up with a small grunt, she had lifted Doctor Alphys up to sit in her lap. Alphys was flushed and flustered, smiling apologetically as she straightened her glasses on her reptilian nose. “H-hello Papyrus!”

“Hello Doctor Alphys!” Papyrus called in return.

Gaster went somewhat shaky behind him. He had never really known Alphys, though he’d seen her in his younger days. They had crossed paths frequently during his work on the CORE, though they’d never actually worked together. At the time, he had written her off as little more than another lab assistant, but time had proven she was quite a bit smarter and more skilled than he’d given her credit for. Of course, she’d had help getting where she was today...whether she realized it or not. Still, it made him wish he had spoken to her sooner, known her better when he’d had the chance. Not that it would make much difference now.

Gaster heard his name and looked up with a start, distracted from his thoughts. Papyrus was smiling back at him, and the two women on the computer screen were looking at him expectantly. Gaster fiddled anxiously with his fingers. “/H-hello,/” he managed.

Alphys and Undyne’s attention flicked to Papyrus. He turned back around to them quickly with a smile. “He says ‘hello!’”

“H-hello Doctor Gaster,” Alphys returned, politely. She was smiling awkwardly, and somehow Gaster took a small ounce of comfort in the fact that he was not the only one having an uncomfortable time at this meeting.

When no one spoke for a space of ten seconds, Papyrus lept in again for him, “Doctor Gaster is very interested in Mettaton! Um...in a science way!”

Gaster flushed slightly again but Alphys smiled a little wryly. “Y-yes, so I heard...I-I’m not sure anyone has ever liked any of my w-work enough to try and take it apart before.”

Gaster looked down at the floor, feeling unbearably awkward. Papyrus gave him a second or two, but when Gaster still didn’t speak, he continued for him, “He’s very sorry about that! But...he’s still very interested in Mettaton! So…” He turned toward Gaster, who gave him a sheepish look. “...do you have any questions? I can translate.”

Gaster hesitated, looking at Papyrus. Temporary omniscience in the void had provided him with a lot of precursory information about Alphys’ work, but a lot of that knowledge had become hard to sort through now that he had form again. Though he might already know the answer to many of the questions he had, it was one thing to KNOW something and another to really understand it. He was intensely curious about Alphys’ procedure, and in particular how she had succeeded where he had many years ago failed. He glanced from Papyrus back to the screen, feeling somewhat helpless that he couldn’t speak for himself. “/How did...you make the hands so responsive? It seems he has full sensory perception in them./”

Papyrus translated carefully and Alphys nodded quickly, warming up a little now that she could talk about her work. “Absolutely! We--I--I-it was very important that he have the ability to feel, as much as an organic body would allow! His hands are some of his most detailed parts for that very reason. I put a lot of work into figuring out how to make them as responsive as possible. He--I wanted him to be able to do anything someone with an ordinary body could do, even something as simple as picking up a pen or holding a microphone. A-and, I don’t know, I just thought it would be nice if he could really FEEL those things...like any ordinary corporeal monster.”

As Alphys had gone on, Gaster had (without much noticing it) moved closer to the screen, keen interest showing on his face. “/It’s remarkable!/” he exclaimed. “/To set out on such an impossible task and achieve what you have achieved! The level of detail on the body--if not for its aesthetic it could be mistaken for organic! Although probably that’s not what its host would prefer. Were there prototypes? Do you have plans for others? For similar robots?/”

“O-oh! No,” Alphys laughed a little uncomfortably. “Mettaton is kind of...um, special. He was sort of...a favor. A-although who knows? Maybe.”

Gaster became so eager and excited that eventually Papyrus had to ask him to slow down in order to translate for him. The older monster would blush and smile and start over again, still stumbling over his words, and signing frequently in an attempt to keep up with how fast his thoughts were flowing. Now and again Papyrus would trip over his own words and Gaster would have to stop him and correct him and Undyne would laugh at the absurdity of the whole thing while Alphys strained to listen. Alphys, for her part, couldn’t be happier, talking about the thing she loved most (next to anime) with someone who seemed to be as unabashedly enthusiastic about it as she was.

They were still chatting when Sans came home from work that afternoon. He could hear them in his brother’s room the moment he came inside the door, Gaster and Papyrus talking eagerly over one another, and Alphys and Undyne’s speakered voices laughing and talking back. He kicked off his shoes inside the door and stepped into the hall, leaning on the wall outside the door and listening. 

“D-doctor!” Alphys said suddenly. “Y-you know a lot about robotics, did you also build robots?”

“/O-oh!/” Gaster said, startled from his train of thought. He smiled to himself, addressing Alphys. “/No, I never built robots...but I did build quite a few inventions. Rough work, mostly. I didn’t have a lot of time outside my work. But I always prefered any kind of science I could get into with my hands...I invented all sorts of contraptions, in my head at least. I wrote out blueprints for some. But I always had far more ideas than I ever actually got around to making./”

Sans leaned into the doorway slightly, listening, curious, as Papyrus translated for Alphys and Undyne.

“/I had a lot of theories about energy, and transfers of energy,/” Gaster went on, looking away slightly in thought. “/Particularly as regards magic. I always thought most scientific approaches to magic were very small-minded...Surely there is more that can be accomplished than what we have generally accepted./”

“Have YOU got magic?” Undyne broke in while Papyrus was translating.

Gaster glanced up and smiled, nodding. “/Though I’m very out of practice now, certainly,/” he said. “/In my youth I was quite formidable if pressed, though I was rarely pressed...and even still I should rather like to avoid conflict./” He hesitated, thoughtful, and allowed Papyrus to translate a bit before continuing. “/I disliked the idea that magic’s primary use was to be as a weapon. I had varying theories about how it might be harnessed to achieve other ends...I even believed it might be possible to use magic to manipulate time, albeit not much. There were other factors involved, other...components necessary, but if combined in the right amounts, used by the right individual.../” He trailed off, looking down at his hands. His tone had grown sober and heavy. “/I even developed a machine that could quantify and identify abnormalities in energy throughout alternate, potential realities. I thought if I could predict what was to happen, I might find a way to change the results of events by using magic. They were desperate times for the Underground, but...enough magic, used the right way, and I believed anything would be possible.../”

Sans pressed his back into the wall, fingers curling against the wallpaper. Undyne barked out a laugh as Papyrus translated, lauding the doctor for his creativity. Gaster fumbled with his words and Alphys offered her praise as well and the conversation quickly moved on to other, lighter, things as Gaster nervously directed talk away from his background. Sans lingered in the hallway just a moment, listening. Then he took a breath and pulled away from the wall, leaving the doorway.

...

When they finally hung up with Alphys and Undyne, Gaster was still talking excitedly with Papyrus about their conversation. The skeleton was pleased to see their houseguest finally enjoying himself, talking animatedly, unable to keep his hands still. They found Sans sleeping on the couch in the living room and Gaster quieted down, though he couldn’t stop talking altogether. Papyrus made dinner and the two ate together in the kitchen, Papyrus frequently stopping Gaster to ask for clarification on what he was rambling about, and Gaster happily and eagerly explaining the best that he could.

Sans was still asleep when Papyrus turned in for the night. It was early, but the skeleton was working on a puzzle and wanted to sit up in bed to finish. Gaster lingered awhile in the house, drifting from the kitchen to the living room to the bedroom and back. When it finally grew sufficiently dark outside, he moved to the front door, giving Sans (still sound asleep on the couch) a quiet, concerned glance before he slipped outside.

Gaster closed the door behind him and drew in a breath of cool night air, watching the steam rise away from his face and dissipate in the moonlight as he breathed it out again. He moved away from the house silently, his coat drifting across the surface of the frost and snow on the front lawn.

“How do you know about the machine?”

Gaster gave a startled jerk and nearly fled on instinct. His head whipped around to find Sans standing suddenly just to his right, hands in his jacket pockets, his left eye flickering with bluish light. Gaster tried to catch his breath, puffing out little bursts of steam as he shrunk away from the skeleton. “/S-sans? I-I thought you were aslee--/”

“The MACHINE,” Sans said, stepping forward. The snow crunched beneath his slippers. “The one in MY lab, the one that tracks time anomalies! The machine I BUILT that NO ONE KNOWS ABOUT but ME.”

Gaster trembled, stumbling back from him. Despite his efforts to hide it, it was clear he was combing through the last few hours, trying to pin-point his slip of the tongue. “/Y..you...I-I don’t know what you’re t-talking about…/”

“Like hell you don’t,” Sans snarled. “I’m sick of this, I’m sick of YOU. You were studying time anomalies, you were trying to find a way to change events, you know about the machine in my lab--the one I BUILT!” Sans stepped forward again, his eye blazing. “What are you DOING here?! What do you WANT? Who ARE you?”

Gaster seemed almost about to speak, but then he turned suddenly, fleeing for the house. Sans clenched his fists tighter before tearing one hand free of his jacket pocket and thrusting it in Gaster’s direction.

_"I’M NOT DONE TALKING TO YOU!"_

Gaster's body halted. He sucked in breath and clutched at his chest, feeling the dull throb of his Soul being grasped and halted inside of him. "/S-sans,/" he choked. He tried to turn, tried to move, but he was rooted to the spot. His stability wavered, the substance of his body beginning to weaken its grasp on itself. He felt as though he were sinking, oozing, seeping through the ground and down into darkness and shadow.

Sans had frozen behind him, his eyes wide. His hand was still raised toward Gaster, his fingers trembling, his left eye blazing with the expense of his energy. He had intended to stop Gaster from leaving, but...this. THIS was not stopping. The monster seemed to be melting in front of him, his black coat losing all shape and seeping, dripping, draining downward. Gaster's Soul pulsed and thudded in Sans' grip, but Sans had never held a Soul like this before. It shone, grey and sickly, in the monster's body. The entire thing was cracked and fragmented, and two large, round holes had been carved out of its shape. It seemed brittle and fragile in Sans' grip, like it would shatter at any moment despite how little force had been applied to it. For a moment, Sans was so shocked and horrified he didn't know what to do.

Sucking in breath, Sans released his grip on the other monster's Soul.

The light of Gaster's Soul went out as it vanished again inside of him. His body shuddered violently, gaining stability and losing it again several times before it finally stabilized. He was more hunched than usual, smaller than usual, and trembling violently. Sans didn't know what to do or to say. His anger had drained out of him and been replaced by something...unfamiliar. 

Gaster managed to shift his face toward him. There was a deep, pained look of fear in his expression. He opened his mouth to speak and coughed. Inky black phlegm exploded from him and he brought a skeletal hand to his mouth, shuddering with another cough before he turned and stumbled away from Sans, crashing back through the front door and out of sight inside the house.

...

“/I never expected that they would inherit my magic. I never intentionally put it into them./”

“A real shame about that. If they hadn’t had magic, Asgore wouldn’t have tried to take them from us.”

“/There was nothing I could do. With Sans’ powers, he was going to be put on the front lines...I thought I could make him stronger. I thought...I could enhance what he had inherited from me, make it a legitimately formidable ability. I thought then he might stand a real chance against a human. I was trying to _help_ him./"

"You just wanted to see if you could do it."

"/It was to HELP him./"

His younger self stood in front of a glass window, his hands hovering over a control panel. It was his private lab, the one where he had built Sans and Papyrus in secret. The young Gaster was smiling, flicking switches and dials, a blind optimism in his undamaged eyes. On the other side of the glass window, Sans was standing, still a child, though older than the last dream Gaster had had, looking hopeful and eager. A series of diodes had been connected to his ribs and the left side of his skull. 

Time had passed. Things had changed. 

"How do you feel?" the young Gaster said.

Sans grinned at him a little crookedly from beyond the glass. "Nervous,” he said. “But excited. You really think this’ll work?”

The young Gaster smiled still, but a worried sadness had come into his eyes. “If my calculations are correct, it ought to allow you to summon and command the blasters at will, markedly improving your offensive abilities.” The young scientist adjusted several dials, looking down at his controls with a frown. “And you’ll need them,” he said under his breath. Gaster looked up and raised his voice. “Focus your energy on that chair. Turn it blue, ground it, as you would normally. Then give me a moment." 

"/I was doing it for him,/" Gaster murmured, stepping nearer. Sans lifted his right hand. The chair in front of him darkened, its coarse wood turning to deep blue as though ink were bleeding through it. "/I had no other choice, what could I do?/"

"You could have stopped," his younger self said, typing one-handed, his eyes on a read-out.

Gaster looked up sharply. The memory had jumped ahead several minutes in time. Sans was hunched, straining on the other side of the glass. He was nearly engulfed in blue flame, his eye ablaze. The chair was splintered on the floor, having been punched through by a row of bones Sans had summoned from below. "Stop!" Sans yelled, his voice cracking. "It's too much!"

"But it's working!" the young Gaster cried, his attention entirely consumed by the control panel.

Gaster trembled, watching helplessly. Several magic bones shot through the room beyond the glass, narrowly missing Sans as they crashed into the window in front of him. It cracked, but the young Gaster didn’t even look up, watching readings on a screen in the panel in front of him. "/Stop...!/” Gaster shouted, though his voice felt far away. “/It doesn’t work, I know it doesn’t!/" He rushed forward, watching in horror as his younger self continued to press on the controls. "/Stop, dammit! He’ll be hurt!/"

"Just a little more," the young Gaster murmured, deaf to everything around him, "just a little more, I know it'll work, I know I can do this, I can make this work...!"

Sans’ left eye was ablaze, his right hand raised, clutching at air, while the other was tightly clasped around the cords connected to his ribs. Gaster stared, horrified, as an enormous skull, the size of Sans himself, began to rise up out of the darkness behind the skeleton. Its eyes flickered to life, its jaw trembling as sentience began to course through it. Sans’ right eye had gone dark, his whole body trembling with energy. The skull behind him rose just above his head. It slowly opened its mouth. 

"/STOP!/" Gaster yelled, grabbing his doppelganger's shoulder.

The glass blasted outward suddenly. White light washed over them, bursting into the lab and spilling over everything. There was a roar of noise.

And then everything went dark.

...

Gaster opened his eyes. The ceiling was dim and hazy above him, lit only by the dusky light of the moon breaking through his window. He breathed in and out slowly, letting reality settle heavily back into his body. He didn’t remember starting to cry (he didn’t know he could cry), but nonetheless his hands were pressed to his face, and they were wet and trembling.

He sat up slowly, feeling loose and shaky. His body ached in the strange, discordant way it did when his stability wavered. He breathed in, shifting his himself to the edge of the bed. His fingers curled into the sheets beneath him. The room felt unfamiliar and claustrophobic. He struggled to his feet and stumbled to the door, opening it with a shaking hand before drifting into the hall.

The light was strange outside his room, bluish and heavy. He looked up with uncertainty as he came slowly into the living room, surprised to see Sans sitting awake, slumped heavily into the couch, his left eye lit and pulsing with blue light.

“/...Sans?/”

Sans looked at him sharply, startled. He immediately turned away again, groping at his eye socket with one hand. “D-doc, what’re you doing up?”

Gaster hesitated. He felt in some ways that he had intruded on Sans and that he ought to retreat back into his room again (especially after what had occurred earlier in the day). But the thought of going back into that room was too much to bear. “/I couldn’t sleep,/” he said, honestly, drifting into the room and doing his best to put the afternoon’s occurrence and his nightmare far behind him. “/Are you...well, Sans?/”

Sans glanced at him again. The light had faded, though not completely, and he was hesitantly lowering his hand. He looked embarrassed, but he also looked exhausted, and too tired to keep up his usual front. “I’m fine, old man…” He hesitated, looking at Gaster with a reluctant expression of guilt. “...are...you?”

Gaster gazed at him tiredly. He signed something with both hands before interlacing his fingers uncomfortably. “/I’ve been better,/” he admitted, quietly. “/I thought I might make some tea...Will you join me?/”

Sans grinned wryly. “...I could go for somethin’ a little stronger.”

Gaster quirked a small smile. “/Ketchup?/” he suggested.

Sans chuckled half-heartedly. He didn’t move to get up, still collapsed back into the couch, looking exhausted. “/Stay there,/” Gaster said, gently. “/I’ll bring it to you./”

Gaster fetched his tea and a bottle of ketchup and returned to the living room several minutes later, where he found Sans still sitting with his eyes on the floor, a look of distant thought having descended onto his features. Gaster took a seat carefully beside the other skeleton, leaving him a fair share of space between them, and held the bottle out. Sans took it after a moment, letting it rest in his lap without drinking it. Gaster watched him, worried, but reluctant to ask. Then he turned away and sipped his tea, feeling a million miles away from the boy who had once called him his father.

No, Sans had never called him Father. Not this Sans. Not in this reality. He was no one’s father, and never had been.

Without much meaning to speak, the words spilled out of his mouth unexpectedly: “/Does your magic trouble you often?/”

Sans looked up sharply. “What’s it to you, old man?” he snapped. Gaster shrunk a little, leaning into the opposite arm of the couch. Something flickered in Sans’ eyes and he glanced away uncomfortably, sighing as he scratched at his neck with one hand. “Sorry. No. It’s fine.”

Gaster hesitated, watching Sans. Then he spoke up in a rush, his voice going uncontrollably clinical. “/Y-you seem confident in the use of your powers while you are awake, but they are beyond your control while you sleep. For some monsters, magic ability acts as a defense mechanism, triggering in response to your body’s emotional output while you are dreaming. An unpleasant dream causes a negative emotion which causes the defense mechanism to activate your powers and the release of magic that occurs as a result signals to your body that there is danger near, so you must wake and prepare to fight or flee. This is especially common after an expense of magic during the day, when your magic is already brimming near to the surface./”

Sans had turned to face Gaster fully and was staring at him, hard. Gaster perked up, realizing how much he had just prattled on. He turned away quickly, looking uncomfortable. Sans scrutinized him closely. “...how the hell do you know all that?”

Gaster shied still from Sans’ stare, but he reached a trembling hand up to his own face, fingering his right eye socket gingerly. “/I had a similiar problem, for a time...It may be that it is a common defect among our particular branch of monsterkind, although I believe residual magic use occasionally troubles many monsters.../”

Sans continued to stare at him. “...I heard you tell Undyne and Alphys that you had magic. You’ve got powers like mine then?”

Gaster turned to look at him finally. “/More or less,/” he murmured with mild discomfort, trying to remember exactly how much information he had spouted in his enthusiasm earlier. “/At least I used to…I did quite a few experiments on myself in my youth, trying to find a way to channel my powers and harness them for…W-well, clearly you overheard me earlier.../” He smiled uncomfortably, looking down at his hands. “/In any case, I do not recommend it./”

Sans was still looking at Gaster with a mixed expression, somewhere between wonder and suspicion. He lifted the ketchup slowly and took a swallow of it before setting it back in his lap again. After a moment, his expression had settled and grown...somewhat regretful again.

"This is probably...intensely personal,” Sans said, quietly. “But earlier, when I...Can I ask, how your Soul GOT like that? When I held it earlier, I...I've never seen anything like it..."

Gaster smiled quietly, looking distant for a moment. He carefully set his tea down on the end table, speaking softly, "/It was...the result of an experiment I performed as a much younger man. I was a bit careless, I suppose, in those days. A man feels invincible in his youth./" He gazed down at his hands, laying them open in his lap; the round, smooth holes in each showed nothing but the blackness of his coat beneath them. "/The results of the experiment were...worth the loss, however./"

Sans continued to watch him, til Gaster noticed him staring. "/It was a long time ago,/" Gaster said with a weak smile. It soon faltered and he glanced down at his hands again, curling his fingers into the holes in his palms and looking thoughtful and a little distant. "/...Sans, I'm sorry for frightening you. I know my presence makes you uncomfortable. You needn’t trouble yourself with what happened earlier. You were provoked, albeit unintentionally.../"

Sans said nothing, turning away.

Gaster sighed quietly and continued. "/...I did invent the device, the one that you built in your laboratory in Snowdin. I was studying energy transfers and time anomalies in my spare time. An unusual hobby, but...it is in my nature to be drawn to unusual things. In any case, it seems that somehow or other you acquired my blueprints and were able to understand them enough to build what I had not been able to./"

“Blueprints?” Sans glanced up slowly, staring at Gaster for a moment. Then realization flashed in his eyes and he sat up suddenly. "The ones written in code!” He glanced away sharply, feeling a rush of understanding coming into him. “Wait, not code--Wingdings. They were your blueprints. That’s what you’re speaking, isn’t? Wingdings? Symbols in some kind of audible output? But, wait--” Sans’ newfound understanding was being chased by a hoard of questions. “Those blueprints, I’ve always had those. I mean, not always, but--I didn’t find them, I just...they were there." Sans hesitated, seeming suddenly uncertain.

"/They came into your hands,/" Gaster said, hesitant himself. "/Even I am not certain the method by which you inherited them. But yes. They were written in Wingdings. Wing Dings--W.D.--Gaster./” Gaster smiled, sheepishly. “/You know how it goes.../”

Sans stared at him for a moment, considering this. "W-wait, alright. So you invented the machine, okay, I can figure that out later. But how did you know I BUILT it? Or where it IS?"

“/That’s...difficult to explain,/” Gaster said carefully.

“Of course it is,” Sans muttered, immediately deflating. “And let me guess, you’re not gonna?”

Gaster's smile had faded. He gazed at Sans with concern and when Sans noticed, he glanced away quickly. "/...I’m sorry, Sans. I...It’s complicated.../"

"Right.”

Gaster’s hands trembled in his lap. For the briefest of moments he had felt like he was making real headway with Sans, finally rekindling some part of what he had lost. And now it had slipped through his fingers, and Sans’ suspicion had once again come between them and any progress they might have made toward reconciling. "/...I would never harm you or Papyrus./" Gaster said, desperately. "/I swear that...I know I’m keeping secrets, but please, you must believe that I mean none of you any harm. I am...indescribably grateful for all the kindness you have shown me. And I am very fond of you and your brother...a-and your friends./” Gaster hesitated, watching Sans, struggling not to move his hands into signs. Then he sighed weakly and looked away again. “/I am keeping you from your sleep./" He stood shakily.

"Doc."

Gaster turned to look back at him, his left thumb hooked thru the hole in his right hand. "/Yes, Sans?/"

Sans didn’t say anything for a moment, scratching at his neck uncomfortably with one hand. "Look, I just wanted to say...I'm sorry," he finally muttered. "For...what I did earlier. Using my magic on you.” His eyes were on the floor but he looked up at Gaster slowly. There was begrudging sincerity in his eyes. “I didn't know it would...do that to you...I just wanted to stop you from leaving so I could get a straight answer out of you. You’re annoying as hell, but I didn’t mean to...to hurt you. I’m sorry."

Gaster hesitated, then he smiled sadly and looked away. "/You don’t need to apologize Sans...I am the one at fault,/” he murmured. “/I know I distress you. And I AM sorry. You're right about me, Sans, I am hiding things from you, but...they're not the sort of things you think they are.../"

“I still didn’t mean to hurt you, you haven’t actually DONE anything to anyone, it’s just…” Sans gazed up at him, too tired to be genuinely suspicious. "Why can't you just tell me? If you can admit you’re hiding things, why can’t you just STOP hiding them?”

Gaster regarded Sans quietly. He glanced away, looking deeply contemplative. Then he looked back at Sans again slowly. “/It’s not...that simple. Surely you of all people can understand that. There are some things that are just BETTER left unsaid. When you compare the significance of the information with the complications it would entail, it’s simply...not worth revealing./”

Sans watched Gaster, watched him make his hands into shapes. “How do you know so much? At least tell me that. How do you know ‘I of all people’ can understand hiding things that are better left unsaid?”

Gaster looked at Sans quietly, mulling this over. He paused a long while, considering his words carefully. After a time, he nodded and sighed and carefully took a seat once more. "/I don't know that this will set your mind at ease any,/” he said uncomfortably, “/but...I will concede to tell you that much./”

“Really?” Sans asked, looking genuinely surprised by this outcome.

Gaster smiled at him weakly. “/Sans, how is it that you come to know something?/”

Sans’s expression faltered with confusion. “What?”

“/That which you know,/” Gaster said, “/the knowledge that you have. How did you come to obtain it?/”

Sans considered him, wondering if he’d been duped somehow. Gaster had gone unexpectedly academic. “...I don’t know. Leaning? Observing. Experiencing things.”

“/Correct. That is the method by which most people come to know things,/” Gaster said, nodding affirmatively. “/Much of what I know, however, I know simply because...I know it. Often, even I do not know precisely where the knowledge comes from./" He smiled apologetically. "/I sometimes have difficulty separating that which I know by observational means from that which I know simply by knowing...It’s why I occasionally speak out of turn, or have an answer to a question that has not even been asked. I don’t do it purposefully, I promise you. It just...happens. At times it can be...confusing. I forget where a bit of knowledge has come from and whether or not it’s appropriate for me to know it./"

Sans regarded Gaster cautiously. To accept this bit of information as truth would explain a lot about Gaster’s behavior, but Sans still wanted to be cautious. “Were you always like that?"

"/Oh no,/" Gaster said quietly, "/there was a time when I obtained knowledge by the normal means.../"

Sans hummed quietly. "So what made you this way? One of your experiments?"

Gaster hesitated, then answered carefully. "/...by extension./"

Sans gave him another scrutinizing look and then leaned back into the cushions again. "...alright, so, if you’re telling the truth here, then you’re telling me you just know things and don't know why you know them?"

"/Sometimes, yes./"

Sans gave him a level look. "...alright,” he conceded. “That explains a lot. IF you’re telling the truth."

Gaster smiled at him tiredly, watching as Sans relaxed back into the couch again and took another swig from his bottle as he digested this information. “/I have no proof, but I should think any other explanation would be significantly more complicated...The simplest answer is often best./”

Sans considered this thoughtfully. “And you really don’t have any control over it?”

Gaster shook his head. “/It’s not as bad as it used to be. For a time, I was nearly omniscient…A burden no monster should know. But because of it, even now I know far more about people than I wish I did. Having knowledge about people that they did not give to me themselves...It feels intrusive. But I can’t turn it off. Sometimes when I say something, I don’t realize until after someone else has called me on it that what I’ve said is something I shouldn’t, by the natural course of existing, know. But it doesn’t occur to me./”

Sans regarded him quietly, then he looked down at his feet, swinging his slippers slightly. “That knowledge of yours doesn’t follow the natural flow of time either, strictly speaking.”

“/No,/” Gaster admitted quietly. “/It does not. That is why I anticipate things that have not yet been said...I don’t realize they haven’t been said yet. It’s...frustrating. I’ve always been terrible at reading social cues--/”

“No kidding.”

“/--and this just...complicates things further. I am trying my best./”

Sans’ suspicions weren’t exactly put to rest, but this information was more than he had expected to get from the doctor. In fact, he’d gotten more information out of Gaster in the past half hour than he had in the past two weeks. And maybe it was just that he was tired and his guard was down, but Gaster...seemed to be sincere. Maybe Papyrus was right about the monster. “Well, if all that is true,” Sans reluctantly admitted, “then it sure explains a lot…”

Gaster smiled apologetically. “/I was afraid you wouldn’t understand...I’m sorry I doubted you./”

Sans turned to him again. “One more thing I want to ask, while you’re in this information-divulging mood,” Sans said. “Where exactly were you going earlier?”

Gaster tilted his head a little.

“When I stopped you earlier,” Sans said. “You were leaving the house. You’ve done it other nights too, I hear you. I knew if I waited up long enough tonight, I’d eventually catch you going out. Where do you go at night?”

“/Just out,/” Gaster murmured.

“So what, you stand on the lawn in the dark and stargaze?”

Gaster gazed at Sans silently, his expression solemn. He made no move to speak.

Sans frowned at him a moment but eventually let it slide. He sighed. “Alright, you stand outside in the dark and stare at the stars...I’ll let it slide. But I’ve still got my eye on you, old man. This is just one piece of the puzzle, you admitted it yourself.”

“/I will not deny that there is much more I have not told you and will not tell you,/” Gaster said.

“Well,” Sans said, “same goes for me. But maybe it doesn’t matter on my part, cuz you probably already know everything about me anyway.”

“/...not everything,/” Gaster admitted quietly. He signed a couple words. “/I thought you would be asleep when I came out here and you were not. ...you should sleep, Sans./” He stood again, suddenly, as though he’d just remembered he’d meant to go..

Sans glanced at him and chuckled dryly. He wasn’t quite sure why. “Why’re you so concerned about whether or not I’m sleeping? You know you’re the one making me lose sleep these days. I was actually getting a decent night’s rest before you showed up.”

Sans found that he was somewhat startled by the look of dismay that came over Gaster’s face at that. The other monster turned away and lowered his eyes, looking dismal and regretful. Sans couldn’t help but think the doctor felt legitimately bad to be costing him his rest. He supposed that wasn’t impossible. “...Look, if you wanna stay out here, it's fine by me." Sans shifted his weight, reaching down to set the ketchup bottle on the floor before pulling his legs up onto the sofa and stretching out. "I mean, that chair’s not the most comfortable place to sleep, but...personally, I always felt sort of claustrophobic in a little bedroom."

The doctor looked up again quickly, blinking. “/Y-you don’t mind my staying out here with you?/” he asked, plainly baffled.

Sans shrugged tiredly, situating a pillow under the back of his head and tugging a blanket over himself from the back of the couch. “Just don’t watch me while I sleep or anything weird like that.”

Gaster nodded, uncomfortably glancing away as Sans closed his eyes. Something had been nagging at him from the moment he’d woken up, but he was struggling for a way to say it. “/Sans, may I...There’s one last thing I want to tell you./”

Sans had been settling himself in, but at Gaster’s voice he stopped moving and became still. “I’m listening, doc.”

Gaster swallowed. He clutched his hands together to keep them from shaking. “/Sans...a long time ago...I hurt someone.../”

One of Sans’ eyes flickered back to life. He looked at the doctor for a moment, silent. “On purpose?” he asked, at length.

“/No,/” Gaster murmured, looking down at his hands. “/I didn’t intend to hurt them...yet I knew my actions could potentially--even likely--do them harm, and I persisted in them anyway./”

“...that’s almost as bad, doc.”

Gaster nodded solemnly. He was silent for a moment before he spoke up again, his voice wavering slightly. “/I lost their trust. I lost their trust and I never gained it back…I was careless and selfish and I threw away the trust of someone I very much cared for on something I should have seen would never work.../”

Sans watched him for a moment, then his eye flickered out again. “Why’re you telling me this, Doc?”

Gaster stared at the floor, clutching his hands. “/I have to tell someone...They...No one is around who still remembers.../”

Sans didn’t speak again.

Gaster glanced up, gazing at him, still. “/Sans,/” he murmured, “/may I ask you a question?/”

“You’re already asking one,” Sans said, shifting onto his side, his back to the doctor.

“/I-I mean,/” Gaster stammered, “/may I ask another? A different question./”

Sans sighed. “You mean you don’t already know the answer?”

“/No,/” Gaster said, then perked up, glancing away quickly. “/W-wait. Yes./”

“Ask it anyway.”

Gaster rubbed at the hole in his right hand. “/...do you trust me?/”

Sans was silent for a moment, keeping his back to Gaster. “Go to sleep, doc.”

“/Goodnight, Sans./”


	7. The Father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, enormous thanks to Grunklebill for their editing. And special thanks to my roommate Phin for one of the jokes!

When Sans woke the next morning, Gaster was gone from the chair. Albeit, it was after eleven by the time Sans woke up. He bent to pick up the ketchup bottle as he was getting to his feet, but found it already gone, along with the cup of Gaster’s tea that had been sitting on the end table. His phone buzzed in his hoodie pocket and he pulled it out with a grunt, opening the message.

_Sans, how are you feeling today? I have been missing you terribly. Would you care to go out to dinner on Friday? It’s been too long._

Sans read the message twice, smiling, before tapping out his reply: _Tibia honest, Tori, I’ve been better, but I agree. Seeing you would be great. Seven?_

Sans smiled quietly to himself, waiting for her reply. It came within seconds.

_Excellent! I will see you then! Much love, Toriel_

…

“Okay, so, wait, where does this part go?”

Papyrus leaned over the tablet screen as Gaster enlarged the photo of the clockwork. The alarm clock was laid out on the kitchen table, its various parts organized by type and size and color into neat little stacks and piles. The encasement itself sat just in front of Papyrus, who was standing with a screwdriver in one hand and a small gear in the other.

“/I believe it goes there,/” Gaster said, indicating with a finger.

“But is that this piece,” Papyrus said, and then indicated another, “or that one?”

Gaster looked to the piece in Papyrus’ hand, then to the one he had gestured to. He made a quiet sound of distress and leaned his cheek into one palm. “/Oh dear, I don’t know...How do humans do this without magic?/”

“Doctor, don’t worry,” Papyrus said, smiling at him encouragingly. “You are very good at science and I am very good at puzzles!! We can fix it!” His smile grew a little strained. “I wish I understood why you keep taking it apart in the first place though…”

Gaster closed his eyes. “/I don’t know,/” he moaned, sounding like a conflicted child. “/It’s THERE and I can’t understand it...I can’t understand any of this human technology.../”

“Well...at least the alarm clock is less complicated to put back together than the microwave,” Papyrus murmured, giving Gaster a glance before returning to looking at the diagram. The screen went to sleep and he nudged Gaster’s arm. The doctor opened his eyes, startled, then quickly tapped the screen to turn it on again.

“/You will not tell Sans...?/” Gaster asked, meekly.

Papyrus smiled at him gently. “I won’t tell him. We’ll get it fixed good as new!”

Gaster continued to lean his cheek in his palm, watching Papyrus and feeling unbearably helpless. He didn’t know what it was about human technology, but he couldn’t wrap his head around it. He had pried apart half the electronics in the house, but he couldn’t make any sense of them. Without magic, what held any of it together? He’d been reading about it in his spare time on the tablet Papyrus had lent to him, but it was still an unsolvable mystery, both fascinating and frustrating.

And curiosity was his greatest weakness. He couldn’t help himself.

“Dr. Alphys fixed Mettaton’s hand,” Papyrus said offhand, placing one of the gears into the clock and reaching for another. “And his finger.”

Gaster focused, flushing slightly. “/...again, I am terribly sorry about that./”

Papyrus gave him a quick smile. “It’s okay. She explained the whole thing to Mettaton.”

Gaster blinked at him slowly. “/D...did she? What was his reaction?/”

“III don’t know, actually. I haven’t heard from him yet.”

Gaster smiled uncomfortably, watching Papyrus. “/...you’re very fond of him./”

Papyrus beamed, unable to stop himself from blurting out, “He’s amazing, don’t you think?!” He blushed, looking down at the clockworks again quickly. “He’s SO amazing, sometimes I can’t even believe he really likes me...Even though I am also very amazing!” He smiled to himself, gazing down at his ‘puzzle’. “But...I was just another fan. I used to watch him on the TV when Sans was on his sentry duty. I so wanted to make his acquaintance! But he was always performing in HOTLAND, and I thought I’d never get to…Hotland is terrible, Doctor, I’m glad no one has to live there any more. There are CONVEYER belts and STEAM vents everywhere and everything is hot and terrible. Sans and I went out there to see one of Mettaton’s performances and it was awful!! I mean, the performance was quite excellent, but HOTLAND.” Papyrus paused, giving the clockwork an accusatory stare before he blinked and glanced up. “...What was I saying? OH! And then Frisk came along!! And everything changed. And we all came to the Surface! And I finally got to meet Mettaton. And...he liked me...”

Gaster gazed up at Papyrus. In his mind, Papyrus still seemed like a child, too young to even consider the possibility of romance. Nonetheless. “/You’re a handsome, talented, and intelligent skeleton, of course he liked you./”

Papyrus blinked at the doctor, blushing a little still. Gaster glanced away with mild discomfort over the fact that he seemed to have no control over what tumbled out of his mouth where Papyrus was involved. He fumbled with his words a bit, signing with one hand, but Papyrus nudged his arm again with a smile. “It’s okay, Doctor. Your encouragement is much appreciated!” Papyrus smiled to himself, looking back at the clock. “That’s what Sans said too.”

Gaster glanced back at Papyrus once more, tapping at the tablet screen to bring the diagram up again. After a moment, he rose from his chair and Papyrus turned a little to glance after him as he crossed to the counter and filled a mug with tea. Then he returned to Papyrus’ side, though he didn’t sit, leaning against the skeleton’s side gently. “/Thank you, for fixing the clock,/” he said regretfully.

Papyrus turned his head to smile at him. “It’s no problem. It’s like a puzzle! ...Are you alright, Doctor?”

Gaster was silent for a moment, leaning gently on Papyrus’ shoulder, his eyes on the floor. “/Do you trust me, Papyrus…?/”

Papyrus blinked, hesitating in his work on the clock. “Is this about Sans…?”

Gaster glanced up at him meekly.

Papyrus offered the monster a little smile. “I’m sorry, Doctor... I know Sans can be difficult sometimes, but he is just doing what he thinks is best. For what it is worth, I for one am glad Frisk found you and brought you here to visit us! You like puzzles and you’re good at reading stories and you even like Mettaton! Although, truthfully, who doesn’t like Mettaton…” Papyrus smiled at him, tilting his head a little. “I trust you, Doctor. You’re my friend.”

Gaster stared at him a moment, breathing in and out slowly. Then he closed his eyes and slipped both arms around Papyrus’ waist, burying his face in the skeleton’s back and holding onto him tightly. Papyrus smiled sympathetically, turning his attention back to the pieces of the clock in front of him.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Gaster and Papyrus looked up sharply as Sans appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. Gaster immediately released Papyrus, shuffling back from him as Papyrus dove onto the table, shielding the pieces of the clock from view with his torso. Sans stared, looking from one to the other as Gaster wandered back to the counter to retrieve his tea and Papyrus smiled awkwardly from his unusual position. “Good morning, Sans!”

“...morning,” Sans replied slowly, his suspicion evident. “Anything I should know about going on in here?”

“Of course not, Sans!” Papyrus replied, still sprawled on the table. “Just normal routine morning things!”

“...right.” Sans glanced from Papyrus to Gaster. Gaster was hunched over his mug, facing the wall. Sans frowned. “Anything going on with you, doc?”

Gaster glanced at him meekly, his smile strained. “/Aren’t you late for work, Sans…?/”

Sans frowned. “I work for myself, Doc. I can’t be late.”

…

Sans’ relationship with Gaster had improved, marginally, since the night when the two had sat up late talking. At the very least, Sans wasn’t sleeping with one eye open any more, desperately trying to keep an eye out for any signs of time doubling back on itself. Gaster’s confession _seemed_ to hold true. And though he still annoyed Sans with his unasked for input and unchronological conversations, Sans found that he was no longer afraid to turn his back on the other monster.

He was, however, still unsure of how to tackle the issue of Gaster’s unwanted affection for Papyrus.

It didn’t help, of course, that Papyrus encouraged him, doted on him. But what could Sans do? He wasn’t about to police Papyrus’ social life, especially not when he had (very nearly) come to the conclusion that Gaster wasn’t an actual threat to them. But hoping that Mettaton’s presence would deter Gaster’s clingyness was a failure. Mettaton hadn’t come by the house since the doctor had tried to disassemble his hand, and Sans couldn’t blame him. And anyway, it didn’t seem like Mettaton’s presence had done anything to discourage Gaster from pursuing whatever sort of relationship Gaster was pursuing with Papyrus.

At the very least, Gaster’s attachment to Papyrus allowed for Papyrus to get the other monster out of the house from time to time, which was hopefully bringing Gaster closer to leaving. So, despite a growing tolerance for their houseguest, Sans still found he was anxiously awaiting the day when Gaster would be confident enough to strike out on his own and leave their house for good…

When seven o’clock Friday evening rolled around, Gaster was in the kitchen with Papyrus, assisting the skeleton in the production of a dish he’d discovered online. Toriel’s knock prompted a less dramatic reaction than it had a week earlier, and though Gaster was made noticeably uncomfortable, he didn’t flee or try to hide behind Papyrus when Sans rose to let Toriel in. In fact, while Papyrus was occupied with the sauce, Gaster hesitantly drifted after Sans, peering with curiosity at the front door as Sans opened it.

Toriel was dressed up nicely, a sweater and long skirt with warm, oversized boots to fit her large furry paws. Frisk slipped by her as Sans opened the door, giving Sans a quick high-five as they passed him and headed for the kitchen. Gaster looked down at them and Frisk grinned up at him, waving as they passed.

“Good evening,” Toriel said as Sans grinned up at her. “You’re looking better, Sans.”

“Well, I like to hear that,” Sans replied, glancing over his shoulder as Gaster crept nearer. 

Toriel smiled kindly at the other monster, looking somewhat impressed to see him coming to greet her. She extended a paw to him, politely. “It’s a pleasure to see you, Doctor...You look well.”

Gaster smiled weakly. He regarded her hand for a moment with uncertainty, then signed something quickly and thrust out his own hand to give hers a small, weak shake. He spoke a few words in his garbled dialect and Toriel’s ears twitched before she glanced at Sans for a translation.

Sans cleared his throat quietly, willing himself to be patient with his houseguest. “He says thanks, he’s trying.”

Toriel looked back at Gaster quickly with a smile before releasing his hand and giving Sans’ head a gentle pat. “I’ve brought you fellows a pie.”

Sans’ face quirked into a grin as he glanced up at Toriel again, a cool bluish tint to his skeletal features. “T, we haven’t even started on the last one you sent over with the kid.”

“Oh I know,” she cooed, “but I found a new recipe that absolutely needed trying and I really couldn’t wait…Frisk helped!” She laughed and slipped past Gaster (he moved aside quickly, more than was necessary) with her bags into the kitchen. “I think you’ll really enjoy this one!”

Sans watched her go, smiling wistfully to himself, til he noticed Gaster watching him and his smile slipped into a grimace. “What?”

Gaster tipped his head a little, interlacing his trembling fingers. “/Nothing...Pardon me./” He turned expectantly and Sans glanced after him toward the kitchen, but as usual Gaster was anticipating events too early and it was a good ten seconds more before Toriel returned, her bags gone.

“Well!” she said, interlacing her fingers. “It looks as though Frisk will be helping Papyrus with his meal...I suppose it’s time we’re off to ours. Sans, are you ready?”

“You bet.” He grinned at her, the cool tones of a blush returning.

Toriel laughed. “Sans, if I bet on you being ready for a date, I’d lose every time.” Sans’ grin turned sheepish as she stepped back over to him, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

The moment her lips touched Sans’ skull, Gaster’s distress was evident to everyone in the room. Toriel looked up, startled, as the hunched figure began rapidly signing with both hands, murmuring in his incomprehensible dialect. “O-oh dear,” Toriel murmured, “is something wrong?”

Sans stared at Gaster, his left eye flickering slightly as the elder skeleton prattled on like a freight train struggling to put on the brakes. “/Sans, are you...Is this...You and Toriel? You’re romantically entangled? You and the QUEEN? Is this a date? You’re going on a date??/”

Sans continued to stare, the irritation growing in his eye. He grimaced, scolding himself, trying to keep his anger at bay. “...what the hell difference does it make to you?”

Papyrus appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, holding Frisk in one arm and blinking.

“/N-none,/” Gaster said, unconvincingly, his behavior growing flustered, “/Of course, it’s no business of mine, why would it be...W-where are you going? What are you doing?/”

Sans blinked, startled when one of Gaster’s hands began awkwardly groping at the sleeve of his jacket. “Woah doc.” He tugged free and Gaster’s skeletal fingers closed on air. The elder monster was looking at Sans pleadingly, protectively, almost the same strange way he had looked at...Papyrus...when Mettaton was visiting. “...what the hell is going on here.”

“Sans?” Toriel asked, blinking.

Gaster shrunk a little, cowed by Sans words, but he lingered still nonetheless, looking awkward and distressed as he glanced from Sans to Toriel and back again. Sans raised a finger and pointed it at the other man. “Look, doc, you’re barking up the wrong trees, got it? I know you’re a lonely, pathetic old monster and there’s a damn shameful shortage of fine skeletons in the world today, but these two are TAKEN, you got it?”

Gaster stared at him, looking somewhere between desperation and confusion. “/T-taken…?/”

Sans grimaced with discomfort and took Toriel’s paw as though to demonstrate. His face was flushed with blue again. “Let’s just go,” he said quickly, giving Tori a tug for the door. 

Toriel stumbled after, blinking. “Sans?”

They’d barely gone a step or two before Gaster moved in again, pawing at Sans’ jacket once more. Sans flung open the door and the sudden movement sent Gaster retreating again. “STAY HERE, OLD MAN. I’m going on a DATE, with my GIRLFRIEND.”

Toriel blinked, blushing a little as she was tugged out the open door. It slammed loudly behind them.

...

“I thought we’d settled this, like I honestly did. Maybe he’s just really desperate after being alone down there in the Underground...I mean, I know Papyrus is pretty much a stud, and Mettaton’s--alright, whatever--but me too? Sheesh, this guy…”

Toriel leaned her cheek in her hand, elbow resting on the edge of the table. The restaurant was busy, but quiet. Candlelight flickered on each table, and soft, slow music was playing from somewhere out of sight. Sans and Toriel were the only monsters in the place, though they had become rather used to the looks and the glances from humans by now. Their waiter had tried so hard not to stare at them that he’d barely looked at them at all when he’d taken their drink order. Toriel had laughed once he’d left, but Sans couldn’t get himself in the mood. 

“I still say you’re reading too much into it, Sans,” Toriel insisted. “His behavior WAS odd, but I’m not sure it conveyed romantic interest...Maybe he’s just very...bonely.”

Sans smiled wryly. “But that doesn’t explain why he’s been so inexplicably distressed when he found out Papyrus and I were dating people,” he said. “Especially me! Before he realized you and I were seeing each other, he was fine! Explain that, T.”

Toriel hummed quietly, looking toward the ceiling. The candlelight was playing on her white fur, casting it in a warm orange hue. “Well,” she mused, “perhaps he’s never had much success in relationships and he’s simply worried for you...Perhaps he thinks he’s protecting you from getting hurt by trying to interfere with your romantic attachments.”

“Well no one ASKED him to do that,” Sans said stiffly.

Toriel smiled at him, unable to hide her mild amusement at Sans’ frustration.“Well...maybe it’s just in his nature. He seems a very nervous fellow. I’m not too terribly surprised if he’s just grown very attached to the two of you and doesn’t like the idea of having to share you. You’re all he has, it would seem.”

Sans stared at her across the table, slumping back in his chair a little and folding his arms. “He’s still really affectionate with Papyrus...”

“Well it’s hard not to be, dear,” Toriel said, brushing at one of her ears. “Your brother is very charming.”

Sans sighed loudly. “That’s true…”

Toriel sat forward, giving him a sympathetic smile. “My dear Sans,” she murmured. “Have you ever considered any possibilities OTHER than those that make this man out to be a villain? You honestly do not really know anything about him except that Frisk found him alone, in the dark. Don’t you think that’s...well...sad?” She spread her paws open on the table. “So many monsters came to the Surface with friends and family in tow. But Doctor Gaster came out alone. Unless you’ve withheld something from me, he has never spoken of friend or family...Have you considered the possibility that he may have lost them?” Toriel paused, biting the inside of her lip for a moment. Sans watched her quietly. “Being alone for a long time does things to you, Sans,” she said quietly. “When you meet someone who makes you feel even SLIGHTLY less alone, the thought of losing them becomes...well, unbearable. If this man was truly alone in the world before Frisk brought him to the Surface, can you really blame him for becoming so attached to you? You’re all he has to call his own.”

Sans shifted his weight a little, glancing down into the candlelight. “But Tori, WHY...Why did he react the way he did to the very _specific_ instance of finding out Pap and I were in relationships? I mean what difference does that make to him? If he’s so protective, why wasn’t he worried about losing me to your friendship? Why does the fact that we’re dating send him into hysterics?”

Toriel shrugged with uncertainty. “I don’t know, Sans, maybe...well, maybe he once was a father. Perhaps he can’t help but feel for you the sort of affection that I feel for Frisk. Perhaps you two remind him of someone he’s lost, someone too young to already be dating someone else. You could ASK him, you know.”

Sans glanced down at his hands, skeletal fingers curled into his palms. He flexed his fingers slowly, thinking of the way Gaster always seemed to be signing in between his garbled words.

“Tori, do you think he might be...I mean, is it possible he could be related to me and Papyrus?”

Toriel blinked. “...oh Sans, I couldn’t say. I have no idea. Have you any memories of family at all?”

Sans frowned, shaking his head. “No, not really. I’m not really sure if Papyrus and I ever had a family. I mean, it’s not like there’s a gap in my memory, there’s just NO memory. It was always just me and Pap... But I sometimes get this weird feeling that I’ve met Gaster before…Or maybe not. It’s more like...I get the feeling that HE’S met ME.”

“...maybe you ought to ask him,” Toriel said quietly.

Sans sighed. Back to asking Gaster questions, Sans’ least favorite past time. He looked across the table at her again, adopting a sincere expression. “Tori...I trust you. You’re a good judge of character. Can you tell me, honest: what do you think of this guy?”

Toriel smiled gently. “I think you are fretting over him a lot more than you need to...I barely met him, Sans, I can’t vouch for his character. But Frisk seems fond of him, and I trust their judgement. To me, he seems a lonely, anxious monster who is afraid of losing the few friends he has.”

“...sorry I’ve been so paranoid.”

“It’s alright, Sans,” Tori said with a quiet smile, reaching across the table. Sans slowly extended his hand and she took it gently, but tightly, in her paw. “I think that you too only want what is best for your friends.” Sans glanced up at her, then down at their hands, curling his fingers into her fur gently. “Now then,” she said, turning her attention onto the table as she opened her menu. “I’m getting hungry. What’s on the menu…?”

Sans gazed at her with growing affection, smiling slowly. “Me-n-you, Tori.”

Toriel sputtered out a laugh, grinning at him from across the table.

…

Papyrus could hear Gaster wandering in the hallway. He looked up from the book he’d been reading with Frisk and watched the black shape of the monster’s coat pass by the open doorway. Frisk looked up as well, and together the two of them sat on Papyrus’ bed, watching as Gaster wandered into view of the cracked doorway again, and then hesitantly leaned inside.

“...Doctor?” Papyrus asked carefully. “You can...come in?”

Gaster hesitated, lingering a little in the doorway before he carefully pushed inside, letting the bulk of his ‘shoulders’ open the door for him without lifting a hand. He looked haggard and anxious, wringing his hands and hunching somehow even worse than usual. “/I am sorry to interrupt,/’ he said, sounding pathetic.

“You’re not interrupting!” Papyrus exclaimed. Frisk shook their head enthusiastically. “Would you care to join us, Doctor? We are reading a bedtime story together since Sans has gone out for the evening.”

Gaster gave Papyrus a weary look, then glanced at Frisk tiredly. He made a few rigid signs with his hands but moved closer nonetheless. Papyrus scooted over to make room for the other skeleton and Frisk too adjusted their position to make space. Gaster drifted to the bedside and hauled himself up on it, slumping back against the pillows. Papyrus gave him a mildly concerned look with regards to the other monster’s total lethargy. But he nonetheless shifted his weight a little and brought the book to where Gaster could see it. “The human picked this one out from the library…”

“It’s one of my favorites,” Frisk said, leaning forward a bit to look at the doctor.

It appeared to be an illustrated work, though not a picture book. An image of a knight on horseback was on the left hand page, while text filled the right. Frisk tugged gently at Papyrus’ shirt and the skeleton looked down at them. He leaned a little closer and Frisk whispered to him privately. Gaster watched with weary curiosity.

“Doctor,” Papyrus said, sitting back up again slowly, “Frisk asks if you would like to read aloud.”

Gaster looked at Papyrus, then down at Frisk. They were smiling at him encouragingly, head tipped to the side. Gaster stared, dumbfounded. Slowly, his attention swung back up to Papyrus. “/They will not be able to understand me.../”

Papyrus smiled nonetheless. “Frisk says that will be okay, they know the story by heart.”

Gaster regarded Papyrus with confusion before slowly looking down at Frisk on his other side. They were beaming up at him. His trembling hands accepted the book when Papyrus handed it to him. He stared down at the page, the words swimming and twisting in his mind, transforming themselves into symbols and translating themselves into the distorted language that was his and his alone. “/T-...there once was a knight in a faraway land.../”

Papyrus leaned against his shoulder lightly and Gaster paused to glance at him, resuming the story after only a moment’s hesitation. A few pages in, Frisk carefully climbed over Papyrus’ lap and managed to insert themself in the spare space between the two monsters. Gaster continued reading quietly, his skeletal fingers trembling.

…

He had known, the moment that Sans and Papyrus had first displayed an aptitude for magic, that their lives would be in danger.

In hindsight, he should have considered the possibility that an organic creation born of a piece of his body and Soul would inherit his magic even without intention. But by the time he realized, it was far too late. In the beginning, he had tried to keep them a secret; he had told no one of the two little boys who awaited him when he came home from his work at night. He had hoped he could keep them a secret long enough...long enough to finish the CORE, to step down from his position as Royal Scientist and get out of New Home, get as far from the capital as possible, somewhere no one would know him, and no one would ask questions about his sons…

But there was no keeping Sans and Papyrus a secret once they had discovered the outside world.

The young Gaster sat alone in his lab. The lights were off, and his work was lit only by two small screens on the control panel he was hunched over. Gaster watched his younger self from the shadows, feeling his Soul throb inside of him. The room was quiet except for the hum of the computers. It was dark.

“Dad...?”

Gaster turned to see Papyrus in the doorway. He was taller than the last dream, though still dressed in stripes, and clutching a book to his chest. The younger Gaster didn’t look up, tapping away at a keyboard and checking read-outs on one of the screens in front of him. Papyrus hesitated, looking anxious, then he stepped into the room slowly. “Dad, would you read me my story…?”

Still no reaction from the young scientist. Gaster stepped forward, trembling, desperately wanting to take the memory of the child into his arms.

“Dad--?”

The young Gaster slammed a fist down hard on the console, turning around sharply. “Papyrus, WHAT?!” he snapped.

Papyrus immediately shrunk back in fear and the young Gaster seemed to realize what he’d done and looked away swiftly. He swallowed hard, letting his fist uncurl, hand trembling slightly. “I-I’m sorry. Papyrus. What did you want?”

Papyrus lingered in the middle of the room, looking fearful and nervous. “My bedtime story...could you read it?”

“You’re getting too old for bedtime stories, Papyrus…”

Papyrus looked momentarily crestfallen but he pressed on nonetheless, “Please...?”

“I’m busy, Papyrus,” Gaster murmured, glancing back to the screen again. “Please…Ask...ask your brother.”

Papyrus looked down at his feet, clutching the book tighter against him. Tears had begun to well in his eye sockets. “Sans won’t come out of his room…”

Gaster had no reply for that. He gazed into the screen, his eyes scanning the read-out.

“...are you mad at me?” Papyrus murmured.

The young Gaster sighed, sounding exhausted and frustrated. He rubbed at his face with one hand. “Papyrus, I’m not mad at you, I could never be mad at you. I just have to work on this, can’t you understand that? I’m busy, I can’t be bothered right now. I...I have to DO something, I-I have to find some way to fix this, fix _everything_. If I can’t make this work, if Asgore takes you, I--” The young Gaster choked on a sob he didn’t seem to realize was there, putting his hand over his face and hunching into it to hide the sudden tears that had burst out of him. 

Papyrus hesitantly approached him, letting the book drop at his feet as he extended his arms as far as he could around his father. The young Gaster sobbed against him, head in Papyrus’ shoulder for a moment before he wrapped both arms around him and clung to him tightly.

Gaster watched from the shadows, remembering. “/Asgore wanted them for his royal guard...He was going to take them from me once they were grown, and I’d already accelerated their aging too much to stop it…/”

“I hurt Sans,” the young Gaster cried, clutching tighter to Papyrus.

Gaster gazed at him, squeezing his hands together tightly. “/I thought...I thought the least I could do was give them a fighting chance against a human, enhance their magic, expand it...but I was wrong...I couldn’t make them stronger, I couldn’t save them from Asgore, I couldn’t...do anything…I had lost Sans’ trust for nothing, and I was...about to lose them both completely.../”

“I just wanted to fix things,” the younger Gaster murmured through his tears. “If I could just find a way to go back and fix things…”

Gaster looked up quickly, the memories overwhelming him. 

The control panels flickered and went out, plunging the room into darkness.

...

Toriel leaned down to kiss Sans gently between the eyes. He blushed and smiled up at her, wishing the evening hadn’t come to an end so soon. But Toriel had plans in the morning, and he hated to leave Papyrus and Gaster alone all night, and he knew it would be impossible to convince her to stay when she had already made up her mind. “Goodnight, T,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, Sans,” she replied quietly, brushing a finger from the top of his skull between his eyes to his nose. “Don’t stay up too late.” She stepped away from the door, smiling.

Sans stood on the doorstep of the house, watching her go, his face a cool shade of blue. When she had finally passed out of sight down the street, he stepped inside, and let the door close behind him.

The house was quiet, not too surprising. He had sincerely hoped Papyrus would get the kid to bed early, since the last time he and Toriel had come back late from a date, they’d found Papyrus and Frisk both wide awake past the human’s bedtime, doing some late-night cooking and nearly setting the kitchen on fire. They’d all gotten a lecture after that one. It had been a disappointing end to an otherwise good date for Sans.

There was no sign of Gaster, and Sans felt a brief sensation of relief, but it was soon replaced by concern. He stepped down the hall to check on Papyrus and found the door to his brother’s room open, and a light still on inside.

Sans stood in the doorway, staring.

Papyrus was fast asleep in bed, Frisk huddled up against his side. But beside Frisk, Gaster lay, slumped against the headboard, as frumpy and haggard as always. A book lay in his lap, one skeletal hand still clutching it weakly in sleep.

Sans watched them. All was silent and peaceful. Despite all his reservations about Gaster, there was something vaguely...comforting...about seeing them together like this.

Maybe Toriel was right. Maybe Gaster wasn’t pining after anyone. Maybe he was just desperate for some friendship or companionship or comfort or...family. He didn’t seem to have any family, and he was awkward at best with anyone other than Sans and Papyrus. Toriel may very well have been on to something after all...Maybe he had lost his family, and was desperate not to lose the few people who had welcomed him into their lives now. It would have been bad enough Underground, but on the Surface, even Sans couldn’t help but feel alone sometimes. The world was so much bigger than he had imagined. At least he had Papyrus. He couldn’t imagine not having anyone…

“/There is no one left who remembers,/” Gaster had said the night before.

Sans didn’t sleep well that night, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint why. He was up early, more from restlessness than want, and puttering around in the kitchen long before the others had woken up. He didn’t know much about making tea, but he fumbled his way through it nonetheless, filling the kettle and throwing a teabag into the pot at random. Gaster seemed to drink any kind of tea, he wasn’t sure that it mattered much.

He was sitting at the table, working his way through a crossword puzzle when Gaster entered the kitchen, looking expectant and curious. “Morning,” Sans said, only glancing up briefly.

“/Good morning,/” Gaster murmured, giving Sans a curious look before crossing to the teapot and filling a mug from it. He came over to the table, tea clutched in his trembling hands. “/Thank you for the tea.../”

“Uh-huh,” Sans said, cheek resting against one hand, tapping a pencil on the table with the other. He didn’t look up.

Gaster sat, setting his mug down and looking quietly at Sans puzzle. “/...number three across is--/”

“DON’T...tell me,” Sans said, looking up sharply. Gaster cowered a little, looking away. “It’s a puzzle, I’m solving it, I don’t want the answer.”

“/Yes, of course,/” Gaster said quickly, clicking his fingers anxiously against the mug in front of him. Sans returned to looking at the puzzle, sighing in frustration. He’d wanted to be civil, to try and talk to the man, especially after their late-night chat the other evening, but Gaster seemed to try his every nerve. It wasn’t just his uncanny knowledge of, well, everything, it was that he had no idea what to do with it. He never shut up. And even though Sans knew now that it wasn’t his fault, it was like he couldn’t stop himself from being annoyed at it. 

He tapped his pencil on the table. He genuinely didn’t know the answer to number three across.

“/I am sorry for my behavior yesterday,/” Gaster said quietly. “/It was inappropriate...I did not mean to upset you or Toriel. I-I just had no idea./”

Sans glanced up from his crossword. Gaster was gazing at him sincerely, looking uncomfortable. “...apology accepted,” Sans said, somewhat reluctantly, but he couldn’t deny that Gaster seemed genuine. “But can I ask you what the hell you thought you were doing?”

Gaster lowered his eyes at that. His fingers still tapped restlessly at the sides of his mug. “/I...don’t know. I wish I knew. I couldn’t help myself. I panicked./”

“Panicked about...me going on a date with my girlfriend?”

“/Girlfriend,/” Gaster murmured.

Sans knit his brows, staring at him. “Yeah, girlfriend. Tori and I have been dating since about a week after we came to the Surface. It’s nothing new, doc.”

“/I understand,/” Gaster said warily. He was getting that anxious, frazzled look about him again and Sans was growing increasingly uncomfortable as a result. Gaster was quirky at best in a normal situation, but when he started getting himself tangled up in anxiety, Sans just didn’t know what to do with him.

“Listen. Old man. You know it’s none of your business. No more than Pap and Mettaton are any of your business.”

“/Yes...I know./”

“Okay, so why are you acting like it is?”

Gaster looked up, frowning with discomfort. He glanced away again, stroking his fingers against the side of the mug. After a moment, one hand slipped free and he began signing. Sans watched the hand, frowning in frustration at not being able to comprehend whatever the other monster was doing. “/It is complicated. My emotions are...displaced./”

Sans shifted his attention from Gaster's hand to his face. He watched him carefully. “...Tori thought you might have had a family at some point,” he said, bluntly.

Gaster looked up quickly, blinking.

Sans gauged his reaction and continued, cautiously: “She thought maybe you’d lost your family. And me and Papyrus remind you of them.”

Gaster stared at him, looking even more thunderstruck now. He swallowed hard and glanced away, trembling more than usual now. Both hands signed now, so rapidly Sans couldn’t have kept up with them even if he knew the signs. With pain in his voice, Gaster managed, “/She is...not wrong.../”

Sans softened a little. He seemed to have hit the nail on the head. Tori was right. So Gaster was projecting on Sans and his brother the way Toriel projected on Frisk. Sans couldn’t even begin to imagine what that must be like, but he knew well enough from being with Toriel that there were moments when the woman looked at Frisk and was seeing someone else. 

“I’m sorry,” Sans murmured. “You could have said something, I mean, it would have...I would have understood. Or at least I would have _tried_ to. You could have at least said something the other night when you were telling me all that stuff.”

“/...it is not easy to talk about,/” Gaster said quietly.

Sans frowned. “Yeah...I know. It's the same for Tori.”

Gaster’s expression softened and he glanced down into his tea. He had ceased signing and his hands now rested on on the tabletop, still but for the minor tremble they always had. “/I didn’t mean to react that way,/" he said at length. "/Not about you and...Toriel, nor he and Mettaton. It's only that you and your brother...have become very important to me in a very brief period of time./” He signed something one-handed, looking vaguely conflicted. “/My behavior must seem very forward, coming from a stranger...but I can’t help but act as though I’ve known you a long time. It feels as though I have./”

“...HAVE we met before, doc?”

Gaster looked up suddenly, startled.

Sans tilted his head, watching him closely, trying to read his expression; but it was inscrutable, as always. “I can’t remember you, doc, but...Papyrus has said you seem familiar to him...And I mean, at first I thought the worst, that you...well, whatever. That can't really be the case. But even still, if Papyrus thinks something is familiar, it raises red flags for me…And the way you act, the way you talk, I can’t help but wonder if we’ve met somewhere before.”

Gaster swallowed dryly, staring. “/...if we had met, you would have remembered,/” he said, shortly.

“...yeah,” Sans said at length, glancing back at his crossword. “I don’t think I could forget you even if I tried.”

Gaster laughed suddenly, sadly, and rubbed at one eye with the heel of his hand.

Sans watched him closely still. He was trying to envision Gaster younger, less haggard. A nervous young monster, awkward but nonetheless gentle, and incredibly intelligent. But the more Sans stared at him, the less he seemed capable of thinking of the man as anything other than a hunched, trembling mass of shadows, skull cracked and hands restless. 

“/I’m very...happy for you and Toriel, Sans,/” Gaster said quietly, pressing at his eye socket a moment longer before slowly lowering his hand. “/I trust she will take good care of you./”

“You say that like I need caring for,” Sans remarked. Gaster still smiled at him sadly and Sans gave him a wry grin, but it faded to a sad smile. “...what happened to them? To your family?” Gaster lifted his head slowly, then he glanced away, frowning. Sans scratched at his neck awkwardly and looked away himself. “Sorry, that was...That’s personal, I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“/It’s alright, Sans,/” Gaster said quietly. “/But you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t answer that…/” Gaster fell silent for a moment, looking down at his hands. “/You and your brother...are very lucky to have one another./”

“Don’t I know it,” Sans murmured, looking up at him, reading him. “You really are just a lonely old monster, aren’t you? I mean...I’m driving myself crazy thinking you’re out to get all of us, and you’re really just some nervous old tinkerer who wouldn’t hurt a fly. That’s it, isn’t it?”

Gaster smiled at him weakly. “/Well, I admit, I might hurt a fly, Sans...I’ve nothing against them, but they have a tendency to _bug_ me./”

Sans sputtered out a laugh, startled. He grinned at Gaster, both surprised and impressed. “God, that was good. I didn’t know you liked jokes.”

Gaster smiled at him still. “I’m very fond of jokes…”

…

Gaster became somehow more...tolerable after that. Sans couldn’t exactly say he was fond of the other monster, but his annoyance began to subside, and his suspicion as well. Over the next few days, in an attempt to make up for his coldness toward the stranger, Sans began making an effort to talk to the other monster when they were together in a room. Gaster continued to be a quiet individual, reluctant to carry a conversation himself, but if Sans could get him on a topic of interest (say, Mettaton), he could go on for ages without stopping. It was, Sans admitted, somewhat endearing. It was hard to fake that kind of passionate interest. In fact, he reminded Sans of Papyrus in some ways. There was a pure sincerity about his interests.

And Sans could empathize with a man who was desperate to talk, but had no one to talk to.

...

“IT’S SNOWING!”

Gaster woke with a start at the sound of Papyrus’ voice in the hall. He sat up quickly in bed, blinking at the window, where large, fluffy flakes of white snow were drifting downward thru the sky. He heard Papyrus’ footfalls down the hall and into the kitchen and then the sound of the sliding door being torn open and dragged closed again. Gaster sat for a moment in the bed, watching the snow falling outside the bedroom window, then he carefully rose and drifted out into the hall.

Sans was sitting up on the couch, though he was hunched over, rubbing his eye sockets with both hands. He glanced up as Gaster’s footsteps caused the floorboards to creak. “Hey doc,” he mumbled sleepily, “it’s snowing. Have y’heard?”

Gaster smiled a little crookedly and glanced up. The window behind the couch was frosted and the big fluffy flakes were still falling outside. He drifted over to the couch and Sans glanced up at him sleepily before turning round to look out the window as well. The yard and the street were covered in a light, fluffy dusting of snow, and the new flakes were quickly adding to it. Everything was white and glistening in the sunlight that peaked out through the clouds.

“Looks like Snowdin,” Sans murmured.

Gaster hummed quietly in agreement.

It had been several days since Sans had inferred that Gaster had had and lost a family. Although Gaster hated the idea of explicitly lying to either of the skeletons, he had to admit...Sans wasn’t wrong. And his relationship with Toriel had curbed his curiosity to press the issue. Despite Sans’ understanding, Gaster still hadn’t expected much from him with regards to any change in his behavior. So he was both startled and pleased when Sans began striking up conversations with him, and noticeably NOT staring daggers at him when he was in the room.

Sans had started laughing again too...Gaster was glad of that.

The sliding door tore open again and the two turned toward the kitchen as Papyrus came stumbling into the room, dressed in his pjs and shedding a layer of fresh snow. “SANS! DOCTOR! IT’S SNOWING!”

Gaster smiled with affection and Sans grinned wryly. “We heard.”

Papyrus perked up. “Who told you??”

Sans grinned more openly. “Go put your clothes on before you go back out there.”

Papyrus broke into a smile immediately. “You should come out too, Sans!” he said, heading for the hall quickly. “And you too, Doctor!! It’s been far too long since we made snow sculptures!”

“Aw Pap!” Sans called after him. “You know I’m no good at those!”

“SANS!” Papyrus yelled from down the hall, “I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO LET A PERFECTLY GOOD SNOWFALL GO TO WASTE, YOU LAZYBONES!”

Sans grinned tiredly and glanced up at Gaster. His expression mellowed a little. He’d spent the past few days thinking over the conversation he had had with the other man, and it had softened him to Gaster considerably. When he looked at him now, he saw less the mysterious threat and more the lonely scientist. Sans slid to his feet, opening his mouth to ask a question when Gaster cut him off, “/Me?/” he asked.

Sans stared up at him, the now familiar feeling of Gaster’s conversation jump settling into his gut. Gaster perked and seemed to realize his error, flailing a little, but Sans quickly asked the question he’d been about to ask before Gaster could go on: “You wanna build snow sculptures, doc?”

Gaster swallowed, staring down at Sans. “/Me?/” he asked again.

“Yeah, it’s kinda tradition,” Sans explained, letting the conversational hiccup pass without incident this time. Gaster seemed exceptionally relieved. “To be honest, doc, you probably don’t have a choice once Papyrus gets back out here.”

Gaster smiled quietly. “/In that case, I would be honored to participate./”

…

Papyrus hefted up another armful of snow and plodded it on top of his sculpture, patting it down and shaping it with both hands before stepping back with a smile to admire his work. Across the yard, Sans was reclining on a lump of snow, arms folded behind his head, eyes closed with a grin. The sun had come out more as the morning had gone on, and a thick, white blanket of snow had covered the back porch and yard where Papyrus had insisted upon building their snow sculptures. It did, quite remarkably, remind Gaster of Snowdin, though he had never lived there himself.

Gaster breathed out in a small white puff as he carefully shaped the curve of the skull he had formed atop his sculpture. Next were the eyes, slightly downturned, the sockets curved gently on the outer edges. The slight indent of the cheekbones, the angle of the jaw...

“Doctor!” Papyrus exclaimed suddenly, looking from his own work to Gaster’s. “That’s very good! Is it you?”

Gaster looked up, startled. He looked from Papyrus back to his own snow sculpture, blushing a bit. “/Yes...W-well. As a much younger man./” The sculpture was tall and slender, standing straight, with Gaster’s face, but no cracks in his skull, and both eyes still intact. He used one finger to trace a small smile in the snow.

Sans opened one eye to look up at Gaster’s work from where he lay. “Ey, old man,” he called, and Gaster turned toward him. “You didn’t tell us you were a looker in your day.”

Gaster blinked, startled, then an awkward chuckle burst out out of him. He turned back toward the sculpture with a thoughtful smile, but it faded slowly.

“Sans!” Papyrus barked suddenly, making Gaster jump. “You haven’t done anything!”

Sans waved him off, closing his eye again. “Of course I have, bro, I made a lump.”

Papyrus stomped once in the snow, hands on his hips. “You were supposed to make a sculpture of YOU!”

“Yeah, exactly,” Sans replied, still grinning. “That’s what I did.”

“SANS!” Papyrus barked. 

Gaster ducked as a snowball went hurtling behind him and Sans easily rolled aside and onto his feet. Gaster turned, watching as Papyrus charged after his brother and Sans grinned and dropped backward into the snow, vanishing from sight as he plummeted into the drift. Papyrus slid to a stop where his brother had been standing and was immediately pummeled in the back of the head by a snowball Sans had hurled from across the yard.

Gaster turned toward Sans with a quiet smile as Papyrus fumed and gave chase once more. 

He turned back to his sculpture slowly, tilting his head a little as he considered it. With one finger, he carefully carved out the crack over his right eye, the one under his left. Then he glanced down and opened his hand and gazed at the hole in his palm, thoughtful.


	8. The Scientist

The snow lingered the next few days. Gaster wasn’t particularly fond of it, but Papyrus could have stayed out in it all day. Sans was surprised to find that despite Gaster’s extreme affection for Papyrus, the old doctor seemed content to stay inside with Sans rather than play out in the snow with his brother. On those snowy mornings, Gaster would sit on the couch and watch Papyrus and Frisk play outside while Sans read or tinkered with one of the devices Gaster had taken apart the night before. Occasionally, they would chat, or Gaster would offer whatever help he could to fix the object he’d dismantled. 

Somehow, though Sans couldn’t quite say how, Gaster’s innate habit of taking things apart in the middle of the night had come to seem quirky and vaguely amusing to him, no longer annoying (at best) and threatening (at worst). Gaster was always intensely interested in Sans’ work as he reconstructed the dismantled appliances; and he was also always...impressed. Sans was reluctant to admit that it was nice to have someone around who really appreciated his scientific prowess. Not that Papyrus didn’t, but Papyrus didn’t really _understand_ the way that Gaster did. Gaster’s praise had...weight to it. The doctor might have been helpless to put back together human technology, but when it came to monster technology, he could make sense of it at a glance. It was admirable, even if it was a bit eccentric. He was a wildly intelligent monster, more than Sans had realized at first.

Without even realizing it was happening, Sans had become accustomed to Gaster’s presence in the house. He wouldn’t quite say that he trusted the man, not entirely, and Gaster’s total inability to have even a reasonably chronological conversation could still get on his nerves, but Sans had become used to him, and had even come to enjoy his company on occasion.

...

Papyrus sat up in bed, his game system in his hands, wracking his brain over a logic puzzle that had stumped him for the last ten minutes. It had gotten so cold outside that playing in the snow had become unappealing even to him. He begrudgingly admitted to himself that the bed WAS warm, and his game WAS fun, and frankly SOMEONE had to solve this puzzle at some point anyway so it might as well be him and it might as well be now.

Sans had spent most of the day thus far with Gaster (a development that had pleased Papyrus to no end), trying to talk him through some of the engineering behind the human appliances in their house. Papyrus wasn’t entirely certain what he hoped to accomplish (Gaster’s unbridled curiosity seemed entirely impossible to tame) but as long as they remembered to eat and were getting along, he was happy. They both seemed happy, too. And Papyrus was relieved to see that.

“Ohhhh Papyrus!”

Papyrus looked up from his game immediately, startled at the unexpected voice in the hall. “Mettaton??”

Mettaton swept into the doorway, throwing back his hair with one hand. He was grinning spectacularly (as always), and leaned dramatically back against the doorframe, eyes on Papyrus. “Hello, darling,” he purred, “weren’t expecting me, were you?”

Papyrus scrambled up out of the bed and launched forward, throwing his arms around Mettaton and nearly knocking him back out into the hall as he clutched to him. Mettaton laughed and squeezed him tightly in return, til Papyrus pulled back, looking at him with surprise. “What are you doing here??”

Mettaton smiled, tilting his head so a few strands of hair fell into his eye; he brushed them aside. “Well, I have a few days before I need to get back to work with Blooky...and I thought--” He prodded Papyrus gently in the chest with one finger. “Who better to spend my time with than the most handsome skeleton on the entire Surface?”

Papyrus blushed and beamed at him. He was about to open his mouth to respond when Mettaton put a finger to his teeth and smiled a bit more awkwardly. “However, darling, if you don’t _mind_ , I’d really like to _take_ you somewhere. For the weekend. A romantic little getaway. My treat. What do you say?”

Papyrus blinked at him, uncertainty beginning to settle into his features. “Go somewhere? For the weekend?”

Mettaton’s smile was almost sheepish. “Papyrus,” he murmured, turning his hand to caress the skeleton’s cheekbone with his knuckles, “I desperately want to spend time with you. I’ve been looking forward to surprising you all week, but I really I _cannot_ be in this house while that man is staying with you...”

Papyrus tipped his head to the side, looking somewhat disappointed. “Doctor Gaster?”

“/Yes?/”

Mettaton jumped and threw himself into Papyrus as Gaster seemed to appear suddenly just behind him in the hallway. The monster blushed faintly, watching Mettaton with mild dismay as the robot scrambled behind Papyrus, clutching onto him with both arms wrapped tightly around his torso. “D-doctor,” Mettaton muttered, “what a pleasure.”

Gaster gazed at Mettaton rather helplessly and then gave Papyrus a forlorn look, murmuring a few words.

Papyrus offered Mettaton an awkward smile over his shoulder. “Doctor Gaster says he’s very sorry about last time! He promises not to try to remove your hand again...” Gaster murmured again, glancing away, still blushing. “...or your finger,” Papyrus added.

Mettaton gave Gaster a brief glare and then forced an uncomfortable smile for Papyrus. “...all the same, darling, I’d really love to treat you to a weekend _getaway_. It’ll be a fabulous time! I can take you to the nicest hotel in the city. We can get away from our routine and our troubles and…” He gave Gaster another contemptuous look. “Everything.”

Gaster turned and awkwardly drifted out of sight down the hall. Mettaton relaxed somewhat and carefully slipped around to Papyrus’ side, leaving one hand on the skeleton’s hip and smiling at him pleadingly. “It’ll be my treat, darling.”

Papyrus smiled back at him weakly. “...I’m sorry, Mettaton. I don’t really think I can go now.”

Mettaton deflated somewhat, but he took Papyrus’ hand and squeezed it imploringly. “Darling, please.”

Papyrus glanced to the side, squeezing the robot’s hand gently in return. “It’s just...Sans and Doctor Gaster have JUST started getting along, and I think they’re making a lot of progress! But I’m afraid if I leave them alone it’ll get bad again...Sans has such a short temper with him...and I really want them to get along!” He looked up, smiling hopefully. “You could stay here though! If you wanted. I know it’s not what you had planned, but...I’m really glad to see you.”

Mettaton blushed faintly, staring at him, squeezing tight to Papyrus’ hand and feeling him squeezing back. He couldn’t walk away now, even if his worst enemy had been in the house. 

Damn that skeletal smile...It was irresistible.

Mettaton leaned in suddenly and kissed Papyrus on the teeth. The skeleton immediately flushed and smiled at him, murmuring, “W-wowie, you must be glad to see me too.” Mettaton smiled back and leaned in to kiss him again, Gaster all but forgotten--til a shadow fell across Papyrus’ skull and Mettaton immediately recoiled and twisted round to find the doctor suddenly hovering right behind him. Gaster flailed, startled and knocked back into the doorframe as he fled.

“D-doctor!” Papyrus called, but Gaster was already stumbling down the hall, muttering.

Mettaton clung to Papyrus once again, his processors running hot.

…

It had taken some convincing to get Mettaton to agree to spend his weekend in the brothers’ house, but eventually the robot had decided that being _without_ Papyrus for any longer was worse than being _with_ Gaster for a couple of days. Unfortunately, he hadn’t realized just how much he would be _with_ Gaster. The doctor seemed to be on high alert with the robot under the same roof and no matter Papyrus and Mettaton’s attempts to shake him, he seemed to always be lurking nearby. So Mettaton clung to Papyrus’ side and didn’t leave it for a second.

“He’s back again, isn’t he?” Mettaton muttered.

“I don’t see him,” Papyrus murmured. “...oh wait, no. He’s there.”

Mettaton sighed loudly. He was sitting half in Papyrus’ lap on the couch, where they’d been trying to watch one of Mettaton’s performances before the robot had gotten distracted by Papyrus’ own charms. It hadn’t been long, however, before Mettaton felt someone else watching him from across the room.

“Doctor!” Papyrus called. Mettaton turned with a frown and Gaster’s head immediately ducked back out of sight around the doorway to the kitchen. 

Mettaton shifted his weight and leaned into Papyrus’ shoulder, huffing. “How can you STAND him?”

Papyrus glanced at Mettaton, frowning. “Well...he’s not like this when you’re not around,” he murmured uncomfortably. “He just really likes you.” Mettaton gave him a wry smile and Papyrus smiled back weakly. “He really didn’t mean to take your hand off, Mettaton! He felt awful about it. He’s just really curious about how you work. He’s a scientist!”

“That does not improve my opinion of him any,” Mettaton remarked uncomfortably. “I don’t need anyone hovering in doorways leering at me from afar--especially when I’m trying to spend time with you!”

Papyrus looked rather crestfallen as Mettaton tilted his head against his own. “Well...he’s afraid to come any closer to you after last time,” Papyrus said quietly. “Maybe...If you actually let him get close enough to look at you, he’d leave you alone.”

Mettaton leaned away and looked at Papyrus with a frown.

“Well, you know!” Papyrus went on. “If he could examine you! See how you work? Then he wouldn’t have to be curious any more, and he wouldn’t always be hovering!”

Mettaton grinned uncomfortably, brushing at a strand of hair that had fallen in his face. “Papyrus, I am genuinely not interested in letting that monster anywhere near me again…”

“That’s...understandable,” Papyrus admitted, lowering his eyes. “Well...I suppose it won’t be so bad.”

Mettaton tilted his head slightly, asking with suspicion, “What won’t be so bad?”

“Having Gaster along on all our dates,” Papyrus said. “I guess I could get used to that.”

Mettaton paled slightly. “W-what…?”

“Well,” Papyrus said, shrugging a little. “I don’t think we’ll be able to curb his curiosity otherwise! You’re like a puzzle, you know? Once you’re focused, it’s hard to let it go until you’ve finished! I would know! So, I guess we’ll just have to get used to having Doctor Gaster following us around.”

Mettaton grinned with acute discomfort. “...m-maybe...I could let him examine me.”

Sans’ voice came suddenly into the conversation, “Aw, he would love that.”

Mettaton jumped, cursing and clinging to Papyrus with both arms. He shot Sans a glare and bunched his shoulders up, trying to hide his tension. “Where did you come from??” Papyrus smiled and raised a hand to wave at his brother.

Sans grinned at the two of them, ignoring the question altogether. “I see you got your hand fixed.”

Mettaton frowned. “No thanks to that houseguest of yours.”

Sans smiled still, though it had softened a little. “He’s just curious. He didn’t mean nothing by it. You really gonna let him take an up close and personal look at you?”

Mettaton frowned with discomfort, but he felt Papyrus’ hand on the small of his back and it encouraged him somewhat. “Of course, why not?” he said, adopting an air of confidence. “I’ve always been deeply supportive of...scientific advancement.”

Sans grinned at him again. “Of course,” he agreed.

Mettaton smiled somewhat wryly. “More importantly, since when are you and the doctor on such good terms with one another?”

“Doctor Gaster and Sans have been spending a lot of time together!” Papyrus announced, happily leaning into Mettaton gently in return. Sans smiled with the slightest discomfort and glanced in the direction of the kitchen. 

Mettaton grimaced. “Well there’s no accounting for your taste in anything, Sans.”

…

After a few more minor incidents, Gaster disappeared for the better part of the afternoon. The door to his room was shut, and Papyrus was reluctant to interrupt him in case he was sleeping. After a dinner of homemade spaghetti (which Sans invited himself to much to Mettaton’s dismay), he and Mettaton watched a movie (which Sans slept through) and went to bed without disturbance, Mettaton’s charging cable plugged into the wall, and Papyrus curled up against him. But in the middle of the night, the skeleton carefully slipped out of bed without disturbing the other, and crept out into the hall and to the kitchen. He could hear the doctor before he saw him, and just before he was about to speak, Gaster jumped and a clatter of sound filled the kitchen.

Papyrus quickly turned on the light. Gaster immediately threw both arms around the microwave as if to hide his handiwork from sight. Several screws and coils had fallen to the floor at the hem of his coat. “/P-papyrus, what are you doing up??/”

“You’ll wake Sans!” Papyrus said back, his voice as low as he could manage.

Gaster withdrew a little and nodded, reluctantly releasing the microwave. He’d yet again taken the rear panel off, exposing the inner workings which he’d mostly removed. It was in pieces on the countertop. “/W-what did you want, Papyrus? It’s late, you should be sleeping.../”

Papyrus stepped closer and bent to pick up the fallen pieces before he stood again and smiled at the doctor. “I just wanted to talk to you. Sans says you’re always up in the middle of the night.”

Gaster glanced away with mild discomfort. “/Is something troubling you?/” He signed something with one hand and then quickly clutched it with the other.

“No, no,” Papyrus said, looking somehow excited. “It’s nothing like that. It’s about Mettaton.”

Gaster blushed a little and glanced down, wringing his hands. “/I-I am so sorry about my behavior, Papyrus, I’ve made a fool of myself and I’m interfering where I hadn’t ought to and it’s been terribly inappropriate I know, I--/”

“Doctor, doctor!” Papyrus put his hands on the man’s shoulders and Gaster looked up quickly, startled. “It’s okay! Mettaton said you can examine him tomorrow!”

Gaster just stared at him for a moment, unblinking. He seemed not to comprehend, gaping a little. “/Wh...P-papyrus, he what?/”

“That’s what you wanted, right?” Papyrus asked, seeming a little uncertain now. “To get a better look at how he works? He said you can! Tomorrow. IF you promise you’ll let him alone afterward so we can spend the rest of the weekend together.”

Gaster stared a few seconds longer before his eyes lit up suddenly. “/P-papyrus, you...H-he agreed to it?? Truly? Are you sure??/” A smile broke onto Gaster’s face and he moved forward a little. Papyrus released Gaster’s shoulders and the man abruptly clutched one of his hands tightly. “/H-he’s...It’s alright?? He’s alright with it? I-I certainly don’t want to force his h-hand--/” He faltered a little.

“It’s okay, doctor!” Papyrus said, beaming. “He agreed to it! As long as you promise not to harm him--”

“/Of course not!/”

“--and to stop hovering around him when he’s here.”

“/I-I can do that, of course, yes. Once my curiosity is satisfied, I would be glad to leave him be. O-of course I would be glad to leave him be now, but I’m...afraid I’m rather bad at resisting my own curiosity...Papyrus!/” He smiled at the skeleton, trembling a little again. “/You must thank him for me!/”

“I will,” Papyrus said, smiling back. “I’ll be there the whole time--he insisted! I, the Great Papyrus, will be your official translator for anything you want to say to him, okay?”

Gaster nodded enthusiastically, still clutching Papyrus’ hand.

“I’m going to go back to bed now...And you should too!”

Gaster’s smile faded a little. He glanced at the microwave uncomfortably as he released Papyrus’ hand. Papyrus gave him a small smile and slipped out again with a quick ‘goodnight’, leaving Gaster alone in the kitchen. After a moment, he flicked off the lights and drifted out into the other room. The door to Papyrus’ room was closed again now. He glanced at the couch--Sans was sleeping soundly. Or, he appeared to be.

“‘Ey doc.”

“/Did I wake you, Sans?/” Gaster murmured, stepping out into the dark.

Sans was laying on his back with his hands clasped across his stomach, his eyes still closed as he spoke. “You’re gonna be careful with Mettaton, right? You’re not gonna hurt ‘im and you’re not gonna leave ‘im in pieces?”

“/Of course not,/” Gaster murmured, sounding mildly insulted. “/Mettaton is made with monster technology, I’m sure I can understand how he works without any great difficulty...and I would never think of hurting him. Of course I’ll be careful./”

“So,” Sans went on quietly, though seriously. “This isn’t gonna be like it is with the microwave.”

Gaster struggled not to clear his throat, trying to hide the guilt from his voice. “O-of course not. This is different. The microwave is inanimate, I can’t frighten nor hurt it. I-if I could, I would feel quite terrible about what I’ve done to it by now…/”

“You _should_ feel terrible,” Sans replied.

Gaster looked up, startled. “/S-sans.../”

“ _I_ feel terrible,” Sans said. “I mean I know it’s nothing special but before you came along it was my micro _fave_.”

Gaster smiled at him in the dark. Sans grinned, his eyes still closed.

“/Goodnight, Sans. Pleasant dreams./”

“Same to you, doc.”

...

“/I never have pleasant dreams./”

Gaster stood in the shadows, watching his younger self. The young Gaster was in his lab, fumbling with a stack of papers with one hand and tapping away at a keyboard with the other. The lights were low; one was flickering.

“Dad.”

The young Gaster looked up quickly, startled. Sans was standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. He had grown since the last dream, and he had...changed as well. There was a coldness in his eyes, a distrust in them. He looked at the young Gaster with a harsh stare. “I’ve got a meeting with the King. You need to read Papyrus his bedtime story.”

“W-what?” The young Gaster stood, spilling an armful of papers. He was shaking. “Sans, w-what meeting is this? You didn’t tell me about a meeting.”

“It’s not really any of your business,” Sans muttered, “but I’m applying to be a Sentry.”

“What?!” The rest of the papers spilled from his arms as the young Gaster stumbled forward. It didn’t take much to see he was...not well. He was shaking badly, and there was a sickly quality about the way he moved. His hunch had already begun developing. “S-sans, a Sentry! You can’t, I forbid it!”

Anger flickered across Sans’ face. In the shadows, Gaster flinched, but he could not look away. “You FORBID it? You’re not really in a position to forbid things any more, are you?”

The young Gaster’s voice was breaking, “S-sans, how can you do this?! Asgore’s plan is WRONG, as a Sentry you’ll be a part of it!”

“Wrong? You wanna talk about wrong?” Sans’ stance tightened. His left eye had begun to flicker slightly. “How about the fact that you’ve kept me and Papyrus locked up down here since the day you MADE us. There’s a whole WORLD out there we didn’t even know about!”

Both Gasters’ hands were trembling. When the young Gaster spoke, the dreamer felt himself murmuring the words in perfect unison: “I was trying to protect you…”

Sans was through holding back his anger. “Just like you were ‘trying to protect me’ when you nearly _killed_ me?!!”

The experiment flashed in Gaster’s mind. Why hadn’t he stopped? Sans had screamed at him to stop but his younger self had pressed on…

“S-sans,” the young scientist stammered, “I miscalculated, i-it was a mistake…”

Sans shook his head stiffly, turning away from him. In the shadows, Gaster watched, helpless. “/It was no mistake,/” he murmured at his younger self. “/You knew what you were doing, but curiosity and desperation pressed you on...You should have stopped, you hurt him, you ruined _everything_.../”

The young Gaster chuckled bitterly.

“I’m done with you,” Sans sand quietly. “I’m done with this. Asgore’s plan is to set the monster race free, and I’m for it.”

The laughter died on Gaster’s lips, and anger flared up in him suddenly. “At what cost…?!” he shouted. “At the cost of those humans’ lives?! At the cost of your own?!”

Sans cursed under his breath and tightened his fists in his pockets. “Anything is better than being locked up in this lab with you.”

The young Gaster’s anger faded. He clutched at his chest with one hand, and the Gaster in the shadows found that he had done the same. The young scientist was shaking so badly it was remarkable that he was still on his feet. “Y...you don’t m-mean that…”

Sans was silent for a while, staring at the floor. Then he looked up at Gaster slowly, his expression cold. “Why did you even make us?”

The young Gaster fumbled with his hands, rubbing at the hole in his right palm. “Y-you know why...I w-wanted...someone to talk to…”

“You know, Dad,” Sans muttered, “I’ve put a lot of thought into that...and I think it’s all a lie.” Gaster shook his head weakly and watched his younger self do the same. “I think you _made_ us just because you wanted to know if you could really do it. Because no one had ever done it before. Because you were _curious_ about how far you could go.”

“That’s not--!”

“I’m DONE.” Light flickered in Sans’ left eye and the young scientist cowered. “I’m _done_ with you and your damn curiosity. I’m becoming a Sentry and I’m getting me and Papyrus out of here.”

“I-I won’t let you get yourself killed!!”

“THIS ISN’T UP TO YOU!” Sans shouted, light like fire bursting from his eye.

The young Gaster withdrew, his eyes searching around the room. Sans watched him in frustration as the scientist turned and drifted quickly back to the computer, fumbling around through the mess on his desk for something. He snatched up a syringe, holding it in his trembling hand.

“/God, no,/” Gaster gasped weakly, watching his younger self tug up the sleeve of his coat.

“What are you doing?” Sans demanded.

Gaster stepped forward as if to stop himself, reaching with one hand, but the syringe was already pressed into the young man’s arm. “/Please.../” 

“DAD?!” Sans shouted.

The young Gaster lifted his head; his eyes flickered with light. The whole room flickered as though the power were shorting out. It blacked out for a moment and then lit again, as dim as before. The young Gaster was alone. His papers were once more on the desk, the computer hummed; a single light was flickering.

“Dad.”

The young scientist turned sharply as Sans stepped into the room. Gaster watched helplessly from the shadows, feeling sick and disgusted.

“/Determination,/” he muttered to himself. “/I was...put on the project against my will by His Majesty, but I didn’t realize til I was exposed to it just how...powerful a force it was. My experiments were rough, but my theories were sound...Even the smallest dose of determination injected into a living monster with magic in their veins allowed for the legitimate altering of the timeline and the branching of new timelines from any given point, though never from a time prior to when I had started using it.../”

Sans frowned, shifting his weight in the doorway. “I’ve got a meeting with the King. You need--”

“T-to read Papyrus his bedtime story, yes, I’ll take care of it, Sans.”

Sans stared at his father for a moment, seeming slightly put-off by Gaster’s easy acceptance. Then he stepped back slowly into the hall. “Thanks...”

“/Nonetheless,/” Gaster murmured, “/it afforded me the ability to ‘reset’ conversations as often as was necessary to produce a favorable outcome…/”

The young Gaster smiled weakly, turning back to his work. There was a faint, hairline crack tracing the curve of his skull. He carefully shifted several of his papers to cover the syringe sitting on the desktop. “S...stay safe, Sans.”

“...thanks.” Sans paused a moment, watching the back of his father’s head. Then he turned and walked out of sight; the door swooshed closed behind him.

“/How could you…?/” Gaster said weakly, stepping closer to his younger self. “/You can’t undo your mistakes, that argument still happened, I still REMEMBER it.../”

“ _He_ doesn’t,” the young scientist murmured, turning toward him. “He doesn’t remember _anything_. And isn’t that what you wanted…?”

The lights flickered out.

...

When Mettaton’s systems booted up in the morning, Papyrus was still fast asleep beside him. He stayed a while where he was, enjoying pressing his face gently into the back of Papyrus’ shirt, feeling his ribs beneath it. After a little while, he carefully sat up and replaced his charging cable before slipping out of the bed to stretch and get his processors going. The sun was up, and the front lawn outside the window was covered in a thick blanket of white snow. Another cold day, then. Perfect for staying indoors and cuddling…

He slipped out into the hall, grateful to see the door to Gaster’s room closed, though he felt his body go a little tense at the thought of what the day held for him. He already regretted agreeing to this ‘examination’, but there was little he could do now. Backing out would disappoint Papyrus and amuse Sans, and anyway, he was eager to get Gaster off his back.

Sans was, remarkably, already awake when Mettaton came into the living room. The skeleton was hunkered down in front of the small bookshelf along the far wall, pulling out books and glancing them over one after the other. Mettaton fixed his hair somewhat as he approached, heels tapping on the floor.

“Morning,” Sans said without turning, pulling another book off the shelf. “So, today’s the big day?”

“Please don’t talk about it like that,” Mettaton said with a frown. “What are you doing up anyway, Sans? Isn’t it a bit early for you?”

Sans shrugged sleepily and stood up, grinning as he turned toward him. “Long day ahead of me, thought I’d get up bright and early.” He stepped past Mettaton and the robot turned, watching before he followed slowly.

“What on Earth could you possibly be doing today? There’s three feet of snow out there, no one’s going to be buying your dubiously homemade ‘hotdogs.’”

“Naw, I’m stayin in today,” Sans said, stepping into the kitchen. “Just got a little repair work to do, if I can manage it.”

“Repair work? Of wh--” Mettaton stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, staring. The dismantled microwave sat on the counter, some of its contents still spilled on the floor. Sans had stepped over to it and stopped, giving it a once-over. “W...what on Earth happened to--?”

“Looks like the doc took it apart again.”

“AGAIN??”

“Yeah,” Sans admitted, feigning seriousness, though he was struggling to hold his grin back, “this is like the third or fourth time...He really loves taking that thing apart.”

Mettaton paled; something he didn’t even realize he was capable of. “E-EXCUSE ME??”

Sans grinned now, broadly. “Too bad it ain’t MTT brand. He’d probably love that.”

Mettaton swayed slightly and caught himself on the doorframe, staring at Sans with horror. “T-this...He...WHY?”

“Curiosity?” Sans shrugged. “He’s taken apart half the appliances in the house, you know...I think the microwave is his favorite though. Big ol’ rectangle. Gotta see if I can get the thing back together again, didn’t go so well last time. Had to call somebody. Ey! Good luck today, though!” Sans grinned at him again and Mettaton stared, horrified.

…

Mettaton sat on the dresser, feeling about as comfortable as his cousin the first time they’d gone on stage. His processors were running hot and he was flushed with embarrassment over the sound of his cooling fans running on high to keep his system from overheating. Papyrus pulled up his desk chair and sat beside him, smiling encouragingly. They were in Papyrus’ room, which seemed like the most comfortable place in the house for Mettaton, but he wasn’t certain it made much difference at this point.

“Now,” Papyrus said, “Doctor Gaster promised he won’t even touch you without asking first, okay?”

“And you won’t leave my side,” Mettaton said, giving Papyrus a hard look.

Papyrus smiled encouragingly and took one of the robot’s hands. “I, The Great Papyrus, shall be right here!”

Mettaton looked up sharply as Gaster appeared sheepishly in the doorway, shouldering the door open with a gentle nudge and slipping inside. He seemed taller than usual, somehow, though he was still hunched as always. Mettaton frowned anxiously, drumming the fingers of his free hand on the dresser. Gaster’s eagerness was unmistakable but it only served to make Mettaton more uncomfortable. He frowned with discomfort and Papyrus squeezed his hand tightly. “Are you ready?” Papyrus asked.

“No,” Mettaton muttered, “but let’s get this over with so we can at least salvage what’s left of this weekend.”

Gaster glanced to Papyrus for confirmation and Papyrus gave him a small nod. With that gesture, Gaster slipped forward quickly and Mettaton seized up, squeezing Papyrus’ hand stiffly. Gaster murmured and glanced at Papyrus, who voiced his translation, “Can he touch your hand?”

“He’s already seen my hand!” Mettaton protested. “He took it OFF if you don’t recall!”

Gaster hunkered down a little and Mettaton shot him a glare but reluctantly lifted his hand for the monster to examine. “Fine.” Gaster took it in his trembling fingers and leaned over it, looking it over closely and carefully moving the fingers and thumb. Mettaton blushed a little with awkward discomfort while Gaster spoke again and Papyrus translated, “He wants you to flex your fingers.”

“I don’t see what’s so interesting,” Mettaton muttered, doing as he was bid. “It’s just an ordinary run-of-the-mill hand. Just like any other monster’s.”

Gaster looked up at Mettaton with interest, murmuring again and returning his attention to the hand. Papyrus nudged Mettaton’s shoulder gently with his own. “I don’t really think anything about you is ‘ordinary’…”

Mettaton perked up and glanced at him quickly, blushing now for an entirely different reason. He smiled at Papyrus weakly and squeezed the skeleton’s hand, encouraged.

Gaster’s examination continued in this manner for a while; he examined his arms and their retracting panels, then the joints in Mettaton’s legs (taking special attention to his ankles), then he examined his neck and shoulders, and to Mettaton’s great discomfort, the details in his face, though Mettaton didn’t allow him to touch him there. Gaster consented to his wishes without complaint, though he leaned close enough to annoy the robot just the same. With reluctance, Mettaton even let him open the panel on his chest to examine the wiring behind his speaker and dial. The doctor didn’t touch anything inside--at Mettaton’s behest--and quickly and carefully secured the panel closed again after.

Gaster leaned back a little and looked at Papyrus, speaking a few words.

“What does he want?” Mettaton asked, hopeful. “Is he done?”

“Um.” Papyrus looked from Gaster to Mettaton, almost reluctant to translate for a moment. “He wants to know if he can examine your Soul container.”

Mettaton flushed immediately. “W-why?? Er…” He frowned, looking from Papyrus to Gaster quickly. He didn’t want to draw undue attention to the nature of his Soul, nor was he eager to have the microwave-dismantling madman that close to him. He bit at his lip, reluctant, but feeling a bit trapped. “...f-fine. Carefully. VERY carefully.”

Mettaton sucked in a breath as Gaster leaned in closely, examining the Soul container with acute interest, entirely unawares of Mettaton's increasing tension. The robot squeezed Papyrus' hand tightly, biting his lip.

Gaster murmured something quietly.

Mettaton glanced up at Papyrus sharply for translation. Papyrus translated anxiously, “He wants to know if he can open it."

Mettaton clenched his free hand tightly, giving Gaster a hard stare. The monster stared back at him, having adopted such a strangely pathetic, pleading look that Mettaton almost, ALMOST felt sorry for the poor, old, broken man who just wanted a peek at his Soul.

“ _Carefully,_ ” Mettaton said through clenched teeth.

Immediately, the look left Gaster’s eyes and the monster produced one of his little tools seemingly from nowhere, fitting the edge of it into the opening of the casing. Mettaton squeezed Papyrus' hand tighter and tensed even more. "Be careful!” he snapped. “That’s my Soul in there...!”

“Didn’t you...take your Soul out and let Frisk shoot at it?” Papyrus asked hesitantly.

Mettaton didn’t know his face could get any hotter than it already was. “That was different!” he insisted. “I-It was live television, darling!”

Gaster glanced at him, blinking, then returned to the work at hand, opening the casing carefully and hovering close. Mettaton flushed deeply and looked away, asking himself again and again why he agreed to this nonsense.

Gaster began talking quietly and Papyrus began translating for him, awkwardly trying to keep up with the other man's words, "He says...It's amazing! Doctor Alphys did a really fantastic job. The detail is r-really...Wait, slow down, Doctor. He, um...He didn't think it was possible to transfer a Soul into an inorganic body."

Mettaton gasped sharply and Gaster looked up, startled. Mettaton met his eyes, looking distressed and embarrassed and horrified all at the same time. Gaster stared back at him, silent. Papyrus seemed to be distracted from both of them, considering what he’d just said. "...wait, what does--?"

Gaster spoke up suddenly. Papyrus glanced at him, blinking. "...oh! No problem! I'll go check!"

Mettaton snatched for Papyrus as the skeleton abruptly released his hand and jumped up from his chair. “P-papyrus, don’t leave me…!!” 

“I’ll be right back!!” Papyrus called, dashing from the room.

Mettaton watched helplessly as Papyrus rushed off. Gaster had gone still and silent by his side, which had not improved Mettaton’s feelings toward him at all. He looked toward Gaster sharpley, tense and anxious and embarrassed and angry. “You...That was _private_ , you had no business saying that.”

Gaster was watching Mettaton quietly, looking downcast. He murmured a few incomprehensible words and Mettaton flushed deeper and frowned in frustration.

“I can’t...UNDERSTAND you.”

Gaster bowed his head, gesturing uncertainly, still murmuring.

Mettaton watched him, feeling deeply vulnerable with his Soul exposed and the mystery man hovering there beside him, knowing too much and speaking too soon. Nonetheless, Gaster’s body language had changed since Papyrus had run off. He had withdrawn somewhat, and his expression was...

“...are you apologizing?”

Gaster nodded, glancing up again meekly. Mettaton sighed, the tension easing out of him slightly. He paused for a moment, fingering the edge of the dresser and looking down at his Soul. “No one knows,” he said stiffly. “Only my cousins and Doctor Alphys...Everyone else thinks my Soul is artificial, created by Doctor Alphys in her lab. And I’d just as soon keep it that way, alright? I’m not...ready for Papyrus to know. Or anyone else for that matter.” Mettaton frowned in frustration, giving the monster an accusing glare. “I didn’t think it would be so obvious to you or I never would have agreed to this...I CERTAINLY never expected that if you DID realize it you’d say it out loud.”

Gaster nodded again, looking guilty still. He turned his attention back to Mettaton’s Soul container and the robot frowned quietly, his face still flushed with embarrassment and frustration. “This...body was my dream,” he went on, stiffly. “I was an incorporeal ghost on a dead-end farm and all I wanted was to be...myself.” He bit the inside of his cheek for a moment, thinking. “Alphys...built this body out of the goodness of her heart, so I could make that happen.” Gaster said something quietly which, of course, Mettaton couldn’t understand. The robot grimaced a little. “This...is my body. My Soul may have come from somewhere else but it BELONGS here. I’m just...I’m not...ready for Papyrus to know...So you’d better hope he forgets what you said, and you sure as hell better not bring it up ever again.” 

Gaster watched Mettaton quietly, his trembling hands still hovering over the open container. Mettaton watched him silently as he closed and secured the Soul casing, with all the care and gentleness of Doctor Alphys herself.

Papyrus returned, looking giddy. “It’s alright, Doctor, no harm done!! The burner wasn’t on. ...Are you all finished?”

Gaster nodded politely and Mettaton gave him a quick look and then turned back to Papyrus hopefully. “He’s done? Can I get up now??”

With Papyrus’ help, Mettaton hurriedly hopped back to the floor, immediately interlacing his fingers with Papyrus’ and moving close against him. Papyrus smiled at him, squeezing the robot’s hand gently. “Was it really that bad…? He was really careful…”

Mettaton struggled to hide the relief that Papyrus seemed to have immediately forgotten what the other monster had said. He held to him tightly, pressing his cheek to Papyrus’ skull. “Oh darling, let’s just...not ever do this again or ever even talk about it, to be honest.” Mettaton glanced at Gaster, who was still lingering where he had been, hands trembling a little.  
Gaster spoke a few quiet, scrambled words, and Papyrus smiled at him. “Aw, you can tell him yourself!”

Gaster looked at Papyrus a little forlornly and then turned his attention on Mettaton once more. He reached out a hand and Mettaton shied away from it a little but Papyrus nudged him gently and the robot reluctantly extended a palm for Gaster to take. The man took it very gently in his own and placed the other hand on top, patting it gently. He spoke a couple words, and Mettaton glanced at Papyrus uncomfortably for an answer. “He says ‘thank you,’” Papyrus translated.

Gaster spoke again and Mettaton glanced back at him quickly, while Papyrus followed with a translation. “He’s very sorry that he scared you...He thinks your body is really amazing and he is honored that you trusted him enough to let him look at it. He says Doctor Alphys is...incredibly talented and a remarkably skilled engineer.” Gaster released Mettaton’s hand gently and glanced at Papyrus, speaking a few last words. “...oh, Doctor.” Papyrus frowned but Gaster motioned for him to translate and Papyrus looked sadly at Mettaton and continued. “Well...He promises to leave you alone from now on and he says he’ll stay in his room when you visit if you really don’t want anything to do with him.”

Mettaton was watching Papyrus with discomfort, but now he looked back at Gaster again, wondering at him. Despite all of Gaster’s...eccentricities, he did seem to be legitimately impressed by Alphys’ work, and not in the way that most of Mettaton’s fans were. Though Mettaton may not have planned for the doctor to realize the truth about his body, he found in some strange, small, and not quite definable way, he was glad. Glad for Alphys, at least. Few people could really fully appreciate what she had done for him; the magnitude of it, or the skill and talent behind it...

He squeezed Papyrus’ hand gently. “...well...darling, I’d...hate to keep the poor man cooped up...It’s alright, so long as you aren’t always hovering.”

Gaster smiled at him quietly and gave the robot a grateful nod before looking at Papyrus once more. He lifted a hand and very gently caressed the skeleton’s cheek, giving him an encouraging pat before he turned and withdrew from the room. Mettaton watched him go, wondering, before shifting his weight to one hip, leaning into Papyrus tiredly.

“Darling, would you mind terribly if we just got back under the covers for a while…?”

“I wouldn’t mind at all!” Papyrus replied, and smiled as Mettaton sighed gratefully at his side.

...

Gaster was smiling to himself as he poured the tea from the pot into the mug. The microwave was still mostly in pieces on the kitchen counter; Sans had taken some steps to repair it, but it had mostly ended in frustration. The book he’d been referencing was still open on the counter, although it seemed to have little to do with microwaves. Gaster didn’t pay much mind to either.

He hadn’t felt this way in so long, so genuinely fulfilled and inspired by scientific prowess. The human technology that had been discouraging him for so long was put out of his mind by the sheer wonder that was monster technology at its best. Doctor Alphys had achieved a marvel, and her work had inspired him, filled him up with a feeling he hadn’t had since before...well, before a lot of things.

He wanted to build and create and do something with his hands, invent something that would challenge him and occupy him his mind. He wanted to _create_.

“Doctor?” Toriel said gently.

Gaster gave a sudden jolt and twisted round to look at her, startled and fumbling. She smiled apologetically as tea splashed over his skeletal hands and dripped onto the floor. He said something undefinable and looked down at the puddle of tea at the foot of his coat with remorse. “Don’t fret about it, Doctor, I’ll get it,” Toriel said reassuringly, already reaching for the dish towel hanging below the sink. “It’s my fault anyway, I know you weren’t expecting me and I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s so strange, sometimes I swear you know I’m coming long before I’m even in the room and other times you don’t even know I’m right beside you.”

Gaster watched her helplessly, hovering anxiously nearby as she hunkered down and sopped up the spilt tea with the dishrag. Once she’d finished, she stood again and made a gentle nod toward the table. “Please. Sit. I wanted to talk with you.”

He said something, looking uncomfortable still, but reluctantly stepped away and over to the table as she rinsed the rag off in the sink.

“Frisk is spending the weekend with Asgore,” Toriel said quietly as she sat at the table across from him. Gaster seemed to bristle a little, but continued to look at the wall, quiet. “I had hoped to run some errands this morning but the snow’s caused quite a few of the shops in town to close for the day, so I thought I might pay you all a visit since I was already out and about.” She smiled across the table at him. “Sans and I have been talking about you.” Gaster looked up at her, wary and somehow...fragile. He always seemed fragile to her, like he was always on the verge of going to pieces, just barely keeping himself together. “You’re very...affected by Sans’ opinion of you, aren’t you?”

Gaster cocked his head slightly and looked down into his tea; Toriel had filled a new cup for him. He spoke quietly, one hand signing under the table. Toriel watched him, wishing she could understand.

“You’re very fond of Sans,” she tried and Gaster glanced up again warily. “And Papyrus. And Frisk,” she added quietly, “but Sans and Papyrus more...”

Gaster nodded slowly. At least on some occasions, universal signs could persist.

Toriel scrutinized him carefully, brushing her paw over the fur of one of her ear in thought. “Sans told me I was right. About thinking you had lost your family. I hope I’m not being too intrusive, bringing that up...”

Gaster didn’t say anything this time, but she could see the subtle movements he was making, signing under the table again.

Toriel nodded solemnly. “You know who I am,” she murmured. “The way you acted when you met me...It wasn’t that someone had told you who I was and you had pieced it together yourself...It was something you KNEW. You recognized me, didn’t you? You must be a very old monster...Or one with an unusual store of knowledge.”

Gaster smiled a bit crookedly. It was an apology and a hint of amusement both.

“So then...you must also know of my child,” she murmured. “My children…”

Gaster’s smile slipped away. She met his eyes and he nodded solemnly.

Toriel sighed quietly, leaning on the table and gazing down into her open palms. “When I met Frisk, they reminded me so much of them...It was a blessing and a curse. I felt as though my little one were back, finally, to rest safely in my arms. But all they wanted to do was to go out into the world and leave me...I felt as though I was losing my own child all over again. It was so painful. But Frisk had a life to live and a journey to accomplish...I had no right to keep them with me in the dark, no matter my love for them, or the way they reminded me of what I had lost...Love is sometimes the act of letting go. Of accepting that risks must be taken, and children...grow. I’m so sorry, Doctor, I may have gotten off topic a bit, but...perhaps you understand the sort of thing I am talking about…?”

Gaster was gazing at her, the hurt evident in his eyes. Toriel smiled at him gently, sadly. “It seems you do…Are Sans and Papyrus very much like the family you lost?”

Gaster gazed at her sadly, his hand twisting under the table. He nodded solemnly and spoke a few indiscernible words.

Toriel reached a paw across the table and laid it gently on the hand that was still on the tabletop. Gaster immediately tensed, staring at her, but he didn’t withdraw from the touch. “I would not wish the loss of one’s family on even my worst enemy,” Toriel murmured. “I certainly wouldn’t wish it on a monster as gentle and fragile as you…” Gaster looked up at her, timid. “Don’t let Sans’ reluctance to trust you worry you too much...He is protective of his brother, you know. Of all of us, really. I think that for a long time, he believed that protecting the entire world was his burden alone to bear...He doesn’t mean to be harsh with you. He just...couldn’t stand the thought of losing us. You understand.”

Gaster looked once more at Toriel’s paw, resting on his skeletal hand. After a moment, he withdrew his hand slowly and then replaced it, gently, interlacing his thin fingers between her fur. She smiled at him gently. “I know that there is a language gap, Doctor, but...if you should ever need to talk to someone, about...well, about your family...I am more than willing to lend an ear. It is a lonely road to walk alone.”

Gaster smiled at her weakly and bobbed his head a little in polite thanks. Then he glanced toward the living room with a quiet word. Toriel glanced after him and in a moment Sans appeared in the doorway, looking uncomfortable to have immediately fallen under Gaster’s scrutiny. “...morning, doc.”

Toriel withdrew her hand from Gaster’s and stood, slipping around the table to Sans. She leaned down to kiss his forehead and he blushed subtly and smiled up at her. “I think I’ll be heading home, Sans. I can at least get some things done around the house today. The Doctor has made some tea I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing if you care for some.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sans murmured, not entirely capable of hiding his disappointment at her brief visit. “Take care, T.”

Toriel smiled at him somewhat slyly and stroked the top of his skull gently. “I’ll see you again soon, Sans.”

Sans glanced after her as she stepped from the room, watching til Toriel moved out of sight. Then he turned toward Gaster to find the other monster still staring at him with interest. He shifted his weight uncomfortably. Gaster’s staring was one of the things that still had its way of getting on his nerves. “So. ...you made tea, old man?”

“/I always do./”

“I’m not really a tea drinker, you know.”

“/I know. But you will enjoy this one./”

“You sure?” Sans asked, stepping over to the counter to fill a mug that had already been set out for him.

“/You will tell me that you like the tea in approximately eight minutes and twenty two seconds,/” Gaster said clinically. Then he hesitated and glanced down at his own mug. “/...I should not have said that,/” he continued, anxious. “/I have disrupted the likelihood of that event occurring./”

Sans glanced at him, frowning a little. “The likelihood?”

“/W-well,/” Gaster said, signing under the table again with one hand, “/I can still confirm that you will enjoy the tea, that is a constant. But whether or not you will mention it to me is no longer a certainty. I have significantly lowered the chances of you mentioning your enjoyment of the tea by suggesting to you that you will do so. You dislike having your actions predicted, and there is a high probability that you will act in defiance of my prediction specifically to--/”

Gaster jumped a little to find Sans standing directly at his side. The smaller skeleton was giving him a hard, though not not particularly emotional look. Gaster regarded him warily through the steam rising from the mug clasped in Sans' hands.

“No one likes having their actions predicted,” Sans said, stiffly, as though he were restraining himself from reacting more strongly. “No one. Me least of all, but literally NO ONE wants to be told what they’re going to do before they do it. I know you can’t help thinking it, but you gotta quit saying that kind of stuff out loud.”

Gaster watched him with uncertainty. But after a moment, he nodded. “/Understood./”

Sans sighed, turning and stepping around the corner to sit adjacent to Gaster. He set his mug down on the table, steam still rising off the surface of the tea. Up until recently, he hadn’t felt particularly bad calling the old man out for his behavior, but now Sans couldn’t help but feel somewhat guilty for letting Gaster’s eccentricity annoy him. “So, even with all that nigh-omniscient knowledge of yours,” he said, trying to sound casual, “it’s still only approximate?”

Gaster gave Sans an uncomfortable look. He hesitated and spoke warily, “/As regards the future, yes...It is more accurate to say that I am occasionally made aware, to some extent, of all possible outcomes to all possible situations. So that I can know with certainty that in some timeline, you will tell me you enjoy the tea and in some timeline you will not. However, I cannot say for certainty what the outcome of this specific timeline will be, so...it is...approximate, yes.”

Sans watched Gaster, curious still. “...timelines are complicated, aren’t they?”

Gaster smiled weakly. “/Yes./” A beat passed and a look of embarrassed discomfort crossed the doctor’s face. Gaster opened his mouth to speak again suddenly, “/I did not--/” He cut himself off just as abruptly as he’d spoken, looking distraught. He was signing a bit frantically with one hand.

Sans grinned at him wryly across the table. He could feel the slight temporal hiccup Gaster had created, as per the usual. The old man had realized what he’d done and stopped himself, though. That was something new. Sans drummed his fingers on the tabletop, moving on with the conversation as if Gaster had not spoken out of turn: “So you managed to put Mettaton back together, eh?”

Gaster regarded him anxiously. He hesitated before speaking, seeming a little surprised that Sans hadn’t called him out. “/I-I did not take him apart. I merely examined him./”

“I know, old man, I know,” Sans said, grinning a bit. “I was just kidding you. Couldn’t help but think your curiosity might get the best of you once you got up close and personal with him.” Gaster looked at Sans with a strange expression and then tilted his chin down to stare into his tea. Sans blinked. He had expected Gaster to be eager to talk about Mettaton after his examination, and the lapse in conversation surprised him. He tried changing the subject: “What were you and Tori talking about?”

Gaster drummed his fingers on the table lightly, then realized he was very nearly mimicking Sans; he put his hands in his lap and signed something, then spoke quietly, “/She was expressing her sympathies for the loss of my family...It was very kind of her./” Gaster hesitated. After a moment, he added, “/She’s a good match for you./”

“...uh. Thanks,” Sans said. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. Conversations with Gaster often seemed to go this way if the old man wasn’t ranting about something of particular interest to him.

Gaster lifted his hands and put his face into them a moment, rubbing at his eye sockets and the crack under his left eye. Then he took a breath and set his hands flat on the table, giving Sans a rather weary but surprisingly sincere look. “/I’m sorry about the microwave, Sans, I truly am. It’s fascinating, but I can’t understand it. I’m just so curious to see how it works. And then I can’t repair it. And I’m genuinely sorry for that. I feel terrible, you’ve wasted so much time trying to pick up after my mistakes. Would you care to go for a walk, Sans?/”

Sans blinked, caught off guard by Gaster’s sudden change of subject. “Uh...You’re SUGGESTING going on a walk? You know it’s still daylight. There are people out there. Also it’s like, freezing.”

“/I know,/” Gaster said, gesturing anxiously at Sans. “/Which is why I am asking you to accompany me, if you will./”

Sans smiled at him uncertainly, taking another sip of tea. “Wouldn’t you rather go with Papyrus?”

“/I hate to interfere any more than I already have with your brother’s time with his...boyfriend,/” Gaster murmured, then looked up quickly, flailing a bit. “/N-not that I would not wish to go with you!! I-I mean to say, I would most certainly ask Papyrus if he were available, but he is not so I--Not that you are my second choice or anything of that nature, although I suppose I--but...Sans, I don’t mean to imply--I would very much enjoy going with you! I-it is just--I…/” Gaster leaned his head into one hand again, signing something with the other. Sans was grinning at him a little crookedly.

“Alright, doc, alright. I’ll go with ya.” Sans continued grinning as Gaster let out a soft sigh of relief, looking up at him sheepishly. “Maybe we could swing by the library, if it’s open. Pick up a book on microwave repair. We could work on it together.”

Gaster smiled at him weakly. “/That’s not a bad idea./”

Sans pushed out his chair and stood. “By the way...”

Gaster inclined his head, watching Sans curiously.

“I liked the tea.”

Gaster smiled at him warmly, leaning back into his chair with relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news, readers: The next chapter introduces a character some of you have been eagerly waiting for.
> 
> And shortly thereafter we'll be coming to an end. Two more chapters, plus a few epilogues. Things will be wrapping up soon.


	9. The Outsider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus begins the next to last chapter in this little Gaster fic I've poured my Soul into the last few months. It feels strange to be coming up on the ending so quickly, and yet I'm eager to complete this piece. I will say that there will be several 'epilogues' to follow this. I've had several ideas over the course of writing this piece that wouldn't work within the fic but that I want to share nonetheless. SO! Although the ending is almost here, there will be a little more to come after.
> 
> Again, enormous thanks to my editor Grunklebill, without whom this fic would not be possible (I mean that absolutely literally; I am a terrible self-motivator and would never get this accomplished without a cheering section). And also many thanks to all of you reading and especially commenting: You encourage me to keep going even when the writing is hard and the inspiration won't come easy. Thank you.

“I’m so sorry, Sans, I did my best. I just couldn’t persuade them otherwise. You know how Frisk is.”

“That’s alright, Tori,” Sans muttered into the phone with discomfort. He twisted to glance out the window behind the couch, phone in one hand. “I’m sure y’did what you could.”

“Frisk is certainly a determined little child,” Toriel sighed on the other end of the call. “You know my feelings on this, Sans. Please be kind, but don’t let him upset the Doctor...I would hate for that poor man’s feelings to be hurt.”

Sans grinned weakly, leaning back into the cushion. “I’ll do my best, T.”

Toriel sighed again. She sounded tired. “I’m sorry, Sans. Please apologize to the Doctor on my behalf if anything should happen...”

“Tori, it’ll be fine,” Sans said, chuckling half-heartedly. “I mean, who knows? The doc’s a pretty clever monster. Maybe he’ll be the one to finally get to the _root_ of that little guy’s problems.” Sans smiled at the quiet laugh on the other end. “Don’t worry about it, alright? I’ll see you later, T.”

Toriel’s voice was still laced with discomfort still, but there was a subtle smile in her voice: “Goodbye, Sans.”

Sans ended the call and his grin faded. He turned again to look over the back of the couch at the snow on the front lawn. He had hoped to put off a visit from the flower for a while longer...indefinitely, actually. If he could put off a visit from the flower _forever_ , that would be ideal. It’d been so peaceful and pleasant having the kid visit without him. But Frisk was absurdly fond of that plant, and it seemed they couldn’t be persuaded to leave him behind for any longer.

Mettaton had left in good spirits the day before. Gaster’s little examination seemed to have been good for the both of them in the end. Though Mettaton couldn’t be said to have grown exactly fond of the other monster, he became tolerant of him over that weekend, and had even given Gaster a touch on the arm when he’d said his goodbyes.

“Sans!” Papyrus called from the hall. Sans glanced up, stuffing his phone into his jacket pocket. “Could you help me with something, brother?? It would appear my scarf has been torn!”

“Sure thing, bro,” Sans called back, glancing once more out the window. There was still a fair amount of snow on the ground and on the road. It would probably take Frisk a while to get there. Sans slid to his feet and headed for the hall.

...

Frisk nudged the front door of the house open and slipped inside, glancing around. Flowey, wrapped up in a thick knit scarf, let out a dramatic sigh of relief at the empty couch and no immediate signs of Sans in the front room. Frisk leaned back to close the door with their own weight, holding the flowerpot tight against their chest. “You’ll behave, right?” they asked. “You won’t be mean to the Doctor.”

“Sure, sure,” Flowey replied unconvincingly. “So long as he doesn’t give me a reason to BE mean.”

“What sort of reason would someone give you to be mean?” Frisk asked, heading for the kitchen.

“Being an idiot,” Flowey replied matter-of-factly.

Frisk sighed with a haggard smile and walked into the kitchen. There was no sign of the brothers or their mysterious houseguest. “Maybe everyone’s napping,” Frisk murmured.

“Good!” Flowey said, twisting round to look back at them as Frisk set the flowerpot on the kitchen counter, standing on their tiptoes. “Why did we have to come over here anyway? Why can’t we just stay at Mom’s?”

“Because I like Sans and Papyrus and the Doctor!” Frisk said, carefully unwrapping the scarf from around the flower’s stem. “And because you need to get better at making friends.” Flowey stuck his tongue out and Frisk returned the gesture. “The sun is out today, aren’t you at least happy about that?”

Flowey made a gesture somehow approximate to a shrug and glanced out the kitchen window with disdain. “It’s still cold...I hate the cold. It’s stupid.”

“It’s warm in here,” Frisk murmured. Flowey huffed a little and continued to stare at the frosted windowpane. Frisk watched him for a moment, puffing their cheeks out in thought. Then they rocked back from the counter and gathered the scarf up in their arms. “I’m going to get our coloring stuff, okay? And I’ll see where everyone is. I’ll be right back.”

Flowey nodded boredly, and Frisk offered him an encouraging smile before they slipped back out of the kitchen. The flower huffed softly, hunching in his pot. 

He really, really hated the cold.

He had tolerated being left with Toriel or Asgore while Frisk went out for the past several weeks, but eventually he’d had enough. He didn’t really care about this strange new ‘mystery man’ living with the skeleton brothers, and he didn’t see why this monster’s presence should mean Flowey had to be punished. Having finally had enough, he had pestered Frisk so incessantly not to leave him alone again that they’d finally given in and brought him along with them. Nevermind that it had been so bitterly cold outside that he had almost regretted whining so much once they’d actually left Toriel’s...He was going to spend the whole day with Frisk, and frankly that was all that mattered.

He just had to warm up a little first.

Flowey looked up sharply, shivering hard as the sliding door to the backyard opened and a burst of cold air came blowing thru the house. A large, dark monster shuffled through the doorway and tugged it shut behind him. Flowey watched him suspiciously, petals curled against the cold.

Gaster brushed a bit of snow from his arms and took a deep breath, in and out. Then he looked up sharply and immediately met Flowey’s eyes, as though he’d suddenly remembered Flowey was there, despite the fact that he had no reason to know the flower was present at all. Flowey leaned away from him a little, scowling. There was a light in the stranger’s eyes he wasn’t keen on.

“/Hello,/” Gaster murmured, looking intrigued. “/I can’t believe I didn’t anticipate your arrival.../”

The flower shrunk from him a little, regarding him with suspicion.The mystery man looked more...broken than Flowey had anticipated. He looked awful. Pathetic. And his words sounded like noise played backwards. “...wow, Frisk was right. You really do talk like an idiot.”

Gaster tilted his head a little, seeming entirely ignorant of the scathing look the flower was giving him. He moved closer and Flowey leaned away again, straining against his roots. “/How curious,/” the scientist murmured. “/The child brought you out of the Underground in the end...By all accounts, you should have been left behind. The probability of your being brought to the Surface was quite low, you know, in spite of everything./”

Flowey grimaced up at him, straining. Every word out of the monster’s mouth sounded like distorted gibberish. “Alright, great, sure,” he muttered dismissively. “Go away now.”

Gaster blinked slowly. He produced a tablet somehow from out of the void of his coat (Flowey recognized it as belonging to Papyrus) and began tapping at it with both hands. Flowey watched, frustrated, silently willing the strange monster to _leave_ or Frisk to _return_. After a moment, Gaster turned the tablet toward him and Flowey stared at it, unable to hide the disgust on his face (not that he wanted to). “What the hell is this?”

Gaster looked at Flowey then at the tablet screen again. He tapped the tablet with one finger, trying to indicate something and speaking to that effect, but it meant nothing to the flower. On the screen was a memo filled with script written in some sort of...code. Symbols. Stupid ones. Suns...flags...hands. Flowey looked from the doctor to the tablet again, squinting. “Is...is that Wingdings? That stupid baby font?”

Gaster nodded quickly, although a look of minor insult crossed his face for a moment. He indicated the screen again, this time tapping at the ‘font’ box at the top. Flowey grimaced in disgust. Yep. It was Wingdings. “Why can’t you just type it normally in the first place?! Why are you skeletons so weird?!” A tendril extended from the surface of the soil in his pot and stretched itself out to reach for the tablet. It tapped the box indicating ‘Wingdings’ and instead chose the most sensible font he could think of. Immediately, the text was readable.

_YOU SHOULD RESPECT YOUR ELDERS, ASRIEL._

Flowey stared at the screen, feeling for a moment as though all the air had suddenly left the room. Then he looked up at Gaster sharply, his expression cold, but fearful. “W...what are you talking about?” he asked stiffly. “ H-how do you--? Did Frisk tell you??”

Gaster shook his head. He began typing on the tablet again. Once he’d finished, he turned it toward Flowey once more and (trying his best to hide his anxiety) the flower tapped the font button sharply with his tendril.

_I KNOW ALL ABOUT YOU, ABOUT HOW DOCTOR ALPHYS CREATED YOU. ADMITTEDLY, I’M RATHER FASCINATED BY THE HYPOTHESIS BEHIND YOUR ORIGIN. DT HAS ALWAYS BEEN A TOPIC OF GREAT INTEREST TO ME._

Flowey’s expression shifted again, from anxiety into downright fear. He remembered the bits and pieces of ‘nonsense’ Frisk had told him about the mysterious old monster, about how he was obsessed with taking things apart and finding out how they worked. He stared at Gaster, tense and fearful. “...if you touch me, Frisk will kill you.”

Gaster perked up, blinking. He shook his head urgently and tapped out another message.

_YOU MISUNDERSTAND ME. I HAVE NO DESIRE TO HARM YOU, ONLY TO SPEAK WITH YOU._

“...why? What about?”

Gaster hesitated at that. He murmured a few nonsensical words aloud before typing a short message into the tablet.

_WE ARE ALIKE._

Flowey grimaced, cowering still. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Gaster hesitated, then continued: _MY FAMILY DOES NOT KNOW WHO I AM._

“Your family?” Flowey regarded him uncomfortably, thinking over what Frisk had told him about the old monster. “I thought they were dead.”

Gaster hedged a little, murmuring under his breath. Then he typed, _A LIE. OR AT LEAST, AN OMISSION._

When the flower squinted up at him, Gaster spoke uncomfortably and typed out more: _IT IS BETTER THEY DO NOT KNOW. THEY WOULD NOT UNDERSTAND._

“That’s not suspicious at all,” Flowey muttered sarcastically, hunkering down a little more into the base of his pot. Flowey considered the words, re-reading the message several times. _We are alike. My family does not know who I am. They would not understand._

Flowey squinted up at Gaster, tilting his head slightly, his whole stem bending. “Are...you related to Papyrus and his trashbag brother?”

Gaster smiled suddenly, though it was sad. He nodded.

Flowey opened his mouth to speak again but then shut it quickly, looking aside uncomfortably. This man knew a lot about him, but...how much?

“H...how do you know who I am?” Flowey asked anxiously. “How do you know what Alphys did? Did she tell you?”

Gaster regarded Flowey seriously for a moment, seeming to deliberate before he typed out a response.

_I KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO MY SONS, IF THAT IS WHAT YOU ARE REALLY ASKING._

Flowey’s stem hunched. Legitimate fear returned to his face as he leaned back away from Gaster, trembling. “I-if you...if you hurt me…”

Gaster waved a hand dismissively and tapped out a reply with the other, _I HAVE ALREADY TOLD YOU, I HAVE NO DESIRE TO HARM YOU._

Flowey read the message over twice to make sure he had read it correctly, then he looked up at Gaster again warily. The man looked sad and somewhat pitying--or pitiful. It was hard to tell. “Why not?” Flowey asked distrustfully.

Gaster seemed to legitimately consider this. He brushed his thumb against the hole in his left hand before taking the tablet again and typing.

_YOU ARE A CHILD._

Flowey had opened his mouth to speak again when Gaster took the tablet back quickly and typed out a follow-up.

_HOWEVER. IF YOU SHOULD EVER ENDEAVOR TO HARM MY SONS AGAIN, I WILL TAKE ACTION AGAINST YOU, CHILD OR NO._

Flowey grinned raggedly up at Gaster and then shrunk back a little again, glancing away. “I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about, gramps…” Gaster watched him, not speaking, and Flowey grimaced with discomfort at the feeling of the monster’s eyes on him. 

A relative of Sans and Papyrus...That made sense. The look in his eyes that had so unsettled Flowey when he’d first seen him: It was Papyrus’ enthusiasm and Sans’ intensity, merged into one expression. Flowey looked back at him, frowning. He had some of Sans’ thinly veiled melancholy about him too. 

“...why don’t they remember you?” Flowey asked quietly.

Gaster scratched absently at the crack under his eye, then typed out another message:

_IT IS A LONG STORY. THE SHORT VERSION WOULD BE THAT I AM FROM ANOTHER TIMELINE, SO TO SPEAK. IN MY TIMELINE, I WAS THE CREATOR AND FATHER OF SANS AND PAPYRUS. BUT THAT TIMELINE CEASED TO EXIST IN REALITY. IN THIS TIMELINE, I--LIKE THE REST OF MY TIMELINE--NEVER EXISTED._

_SO, IT IS NOT THAT THEY DO NOT REMEMBER ME. IT IS THAT I NEVER EXISTED IN THEIR LIVES AT ALL. THEY ARE MY SONS BUT I AM NOT THEIR FATHER. NOT TO THEM, AT LEAST._

“...that sucks,” Flowey muttered, looking up once he’d finished reading the text. Gaster smiled a bit wryly. “Is that how you know about me then? Some kind of...timeline stuff?”

“/It’s complicated,/” Gaster admitted, typing as much into the tablet. “/But yes./”

Flowey puffed up his cheeks, rolling these thoughts around in his head. “So why don’t you just tell them?”

Gaster fingered the holes in his hands absently, thinking over his response before he tapped it out.

_THERE ARE SEVERAL REASONS. THE SIMPLEST IS THAT IT IS SIMPLY BEST THAT PEOPLE ARE NOT MADE AWARE OF TIMELINES WHICH DO NOT AFFECT THEM. IT IS BEST TO REMAIN UNAWARES OF THAT WHICH MIGHT HAVE HAPPENED AND COULD HAVE BEEN. IT WOULD BE WRONG OF ME TO BURDEN THEM WITH KNOWLEDGE OF A TIMELINE THEY NEVER EXPERIENCED AND WHICH DOES NOT EVEN EXIST._

_THE MORE COMPLICATED REASON IS THAT I HAVE DONE THINGS WHICH I REGRET. AND I DO NOT KNOW THAT THEY WOULD BE UNDERSTOOD._

“...really?” Flowey murmured with interest. “Okay...So. Why tell _me_ about all this? I mean, I could tell them who you are. I could ruin everything.”

_I TRUST THAT YOU WON’T, SINCE I COULD JUST AS EASILY TELL YOUR FAMILY ABOUT YOU._

Flowey frowned. Gaster glanced up at the sound of a dog barking outside. There was sunlight filtering through the curtains onto the kitchen table. 

Gaster paused, then turned back toward Flowey and without hesitation, placed both hands on the pot and lifted him up. Flowey gave a startled yelp and immediately began yelling, “H-HEY! I SAID DON’T TOUCH ME!”

Gaster ignored him and stepped over to the table, setting the flower down in the beam of bright sunlight. Flowey immediately stopped shouting and gave Gaster a nervous, confused look as the Doctor returned to the counter, retrieved the tablet, and then sat down in a chair near to him. Gaster was looking at him somewhat expectantly again, childlike despite his obvious age.

“...thanks,” Flowey muttered.

Gaster smiled at him. Flowey grinned at him darkly in return. “Man, you must be REALLY desperate for someone to talk to if you want to talk to _me_ so badly.”

Gaster tilted his head a little, then he glanced away, frowning thoughtfully.

“Doesn’t it BOTHER you?” Flowey went on. “I mean, are you REALLY so quick to forgive? Or are you just so pathetic and lonely that you don’t even care who it is you talk to as long as it’s not yourself?” Flowey sneered. “I’ve heard all about you. You’re scared of everything. You won’t even go outside. You’re pathetic if you think--”

Flowey started as Gaster pressed his fingers gently to the flower’s face, stopping him mid-speech. Flowey sunk down quickly to avoid the touch and Gaster withdrew his hand, frowning at him quietly. 

“...sorry,” Flowey muttered.

Gaster sighed quietly and murmured some words, looking away. Flowey watched him, but Gaster didn’t reach for the tablet. After a moment, he prodded curiously, “What’d you say?”

Gaster looked back at him. He hesitated, then typed out a message and slid the tablet quietly across the table. Flowey reached out a tendril and carefully changed the font.

_I UNDERSTAND HOW YOU FEEL._

Flowey gave Gaster a skeptical look. “How _I_ feel?” 

_YOU WANT TO BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE. BUT NO ONE REMEMBERS._

Flowey stared at him, looking legitimately struck. He slowly looked away, his stem hunching slightly. Gaster regarded him sadly.

“So you really know...everything I did?”

Gaster nodded solemnly.

“...and you’re not gonna hurt me?”

Gaster shook his head, leaning on the table gently.

“...then you’re an idiot,” Flowey muttered, looking down. “Just like Frisk.”

...

When Frisk returned to the kitchen, they found Gaster sitting at the table with the flowerpot in his lap, scrolling thru something on his tablet which lay flat on the table. Flowey was upright in the pot, watching the tablet screen. “...wait-wait, scroll back up,” the flower spoke up. Gaster murmured something and scrolled back on the screen while Flowey spoke over him, “Yeah, yeah.”

Frisk blinked, crossing the kitchen slowly. Gaster looked up when he noticed them, smiling. He said what was easily understood to be a ‘hello’ and Flowey looked up quickly as well. Frisk’s arms were full of paper and boxes of crayons and colored pencils. They tipped their head to one side, looking between the two of them. “You’re getting along,” Frisk said, sounding dubious.

Gaster smiled sheepishly and glanced back at the tablet. Flowey stuck his tongue out at Frisk, looking smug. “What, you think I can’t make friends?? I made a perfectly good friend all by myself.”

Gaster smiled to himself and Frisk blinked up at the two of them. “What are you doing?” they asked, still startled.

“He’s reading about science nerd stuff,” Flowey answered and Gaster blushed faintly, glancing down at him. “But there’s stuff about plants in here too!! You should get me some of this.” He prodded at the tablet with a tendril and Frisk stood on their tiptoes, sliding their coloring supplies on the table as they looked at the tablet. Gaster smiled down at the two of them.

“Woah, kid,” Sans said, appearing in the door to the kitchen suddenly. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Frisk turned and smiled at Sans, but Flowey shrunk down more in his pot, scowling over the edge of the table. “We just got here,” Frisk said. “I brought Flowey.”

“...I noticed,” Sans said, staring now that he’d seen the plant in Gaster’s lap. Gaster gave Sans a somewhat apologetic look, fiddling with his hands uncomfortably. Sans’ expression soured slightly; he had anticipated a lot of possible outcomes to Gaster meeting the flower, but this honestly hadn’t been one of them. “Making friends, doc?” he asked tensely.

“/Trying to,/” Gaster said meekly. “/Is there a problem?/”

Sans balked, frowning. He wasn’t fond of that flower, but he knew it wasn’t his place to judge the old man’s choice in companions, especially since he had so few. Besides, Papyrus was undeniably fond of the flower. Not that Sans was happy about that either. “No, no problem,” he muttered. Sans glanced at Flowey again suspiciously and the flower stuck his tongue out. Sans was just beginning to grimace in response when Gaster’s hand came down on the flower’s petals and patted Flowey’s face gently but firmly. Flowey ducked, cursing softly. Sans blinked.

“/Behave,/” Gaster said quietly. “/You are a guest.../”

“I don’t know what you’re SAYING…!!” Flowey barked, trying to duck out of way of the pats. “STOP!!”

“No problem at all,” Sans murmured, grinning slowly.

...

Frisk began bringing Flowey with them on their after-school visits to the skeletons as they had before Gaster’s arrival, and Sans found that in spite of himself, he wasn’t nearly as suspicious of Gaster’s interest in the flower as he expected to be. Gaster was inherently fascinated by anything unusual or contrary to the norm, so Sans couldn’t help but be somewhat amused by how the scientist perked up with interest whenever Frisk appeared with the flower in tow. It also helped that although Flowey seemed strangely amiable with the old man, he was also, somehow or other, cowed by him as well. Meek tho Gaster may be, he was strangely equipped to discipline the flower, and wasn’t nearly as shaken by Flowey’s insults as everyone had feared he might be.

By Friday, Gaster and Flowey seemed to have become fast friends, much to Papyrus’ delight. And Sans, for all his dislike of the flower and his distrust of the old man, found that he was quietly pleased to see Gaster in the best mood he had been in since they’d found him.

Sans could hear Gaster shuffling around in the kitchen, though he didn’t know what he was up to. Frisk and the flower were busy working on an art project of some kind in Papyrus’ bedroom. Sans was surprised that Gaster wasn’t helping them, seeing as how the man had spent each afternoon that week with the quirky trio. 

Gaster wandered into the living room, looking a bit scattered, and Sans grinned at him sleepily from the couch. “What’re you up to, doc?”

Gaster looked up, blinking at Sans. He seemed momentarily distracted, then he smiled, rather anxiously. “/I am going to go for a walk./”

Now was Sans’ turn to blink. “Alone?” he asked.

“/Oh,/” Gaster said, looking suddenly more anxious, “/no, no, of course not. I am taking Flowey./”

“Flowey?” Sans asked. “And Frisk and my brother?”

“/Oh...no,/” Gaster said, fiddling with his hands. “/Just Flowey./”

Sans couldn’t help but feel a little surprised that the flower was willing to go or do anything without Frisk present, especially with Gaster of all monsters. “...you sure like that little guy, don’t you?” he managed, obviously uncomfortable.

Gaster smiled at Sans a little weakly and stepped closer. “/Does my interest in him trouble you…?/”

“W-what?” Sans muttered, shrugging awkwardly. “Of course not. Why should I care?” Sans grinned up at him a crookedly. “I don’t care for that flower...but I ain’t gonna police your friendships, you’ve got few enough of ‘em as it is. Besides, Papyrus is fond of him too.”

“/Yes,/” Gaster murmured, looking a little thoughtful for a moment, “/he is...You could join us, if you like,/” he offered.

“That’s ok, doc,” Sans replied, shifting his weight to pull his legs up onto the couch. “I got important business to take care of here. You know how it is.”

Gaster smiled at him still as Sans lay back and folded his arms behind his head, closing his eyes. Gaster signed a few symbols, unseen. “/Rest well, Sans./”

...

It was cold outside, and Flowey was huddled down into a scarf that Papyrus had wrapped around his pot and stem before he and Gaster had gone out. Gaster held the flowerpot against his chest gently, trying not to feel overly embarrassed about how much he’d been trembling since they’d left the house. He wished that he could place why exactly his anxiety had gotten so bad since his accident, but there were too many possibilities to narrow it down. Maybe it was all that time alone in the void, maybe it was the very nature of his splintered Soul, maybe it was just the natural development of the anxiety he’d had as a young man, or maybe it was a side effect of all the determination he’d forced into himself those years ago…

“Papyrus said you never take walks without one of them,” Flowey said suddenly, tilting his petals back to look up at Gaster. Gaster gazed down at him, tipping his head a little. “Why not? Are you scared?”

Gaster hesitated, then nodded stiffly. It was true, and it was easier than trying to fish the tablet out of his coat to be more specific.

Flowey made a _pssh_ noise and looked forward again. “Pathetic,” he muttered. “The humans are more scared of us monsters than you ought to be of them. They don’t even have magic. They’re all stupid. Except for Frisk.”

Gaster hummed quietly. “/You’re fond of Frisk,/” he murmured. Flowey glanced up at him but didn’t ask for a translation, hunkering down a little more and looking ahead again.

Over the past week, Flowey and Gaster had realized that the unique circumstances of their situations gave them a significant amount of things to talk about. However, those same circumstances were impossible to talk about anywhere prying ears might overhear. It had been Flowey’s idea to walk, in spite of the cold. He was frustrated at the fact that Gaster was “too much of a baby” to go outside by himself and had taken it upon himself to change that. Gaster wasn’t confident, but he had wanted more time with the little prince away from prying ears.

Two blocks ahead, a human in jogging clothes stepped around the corner of a house, walking briskly. Gaster immediately tensed and began to slow his speed.

“Oh my god,” Flowey chided, “suck it up. It’s just a human.”

Gaster clutched the flowerpot tighter against his chest nonetheless, warily moving to the far edge of the sidewalk as the human being came toward them. Flowey sighed loudly and bumped the back of his petals against the monster’s chest gently. Gaster made a woeful sound and straightened up, though the flower could still feel the man trembling.

“How do you ever expect to live on your own if you can’t even go outside?” Flowey muttered.

Gaster blinked, looking down at him quickly. “/What?/”

Flowey tilted his face upward, inferring what the monster had said from his expression. “When you leave Sans and Papyrus’ place. What are you gonna DO? You’re helpless.”

Gaster blinked, looking away uncertainly. “/When I…?/” he murmured. “/Should I be leaving…?/”

“Can’t understand ya, gramps,” Flowey said, looking ahead again. Gaster looked up in time to see the human coming near to passing them. Without even pausing, he abruptly turned to the right and off the sidewalk into an unfamiliar yard. 

“NO NO NO!” Flowey barked at him. The human gave them a quick, uncomfortable glance as they passed by behind them.

Gaster stopped, standing in the middle of the unfamiliar lawn, looking down at nothing and shaking slightly. Flowey twisted his stem around to glare at him. “You were supposed to keep walking!! That human wasn’t going to do anything!”

Gaster was still staring at nothing. “/Have I overstayed my welcome…? This was only meant to be temporary...Is it time I left?/”

“What??” Flowey snapped.

Gaster’s attention flickered back to the flower in his hands. He swallowed, shaking his head a little. “/I’m sorry,/” he murmured, turning and drifting back toward the sidewalk, though he looked once after the human with an anxious glance before continuing in the direction he’d been going.

...

“/Asriel,/” Gaster murmured.

Flowey glanced up, looking weary. It was late afternoon, and Frisk was playing in the snow out back with a neighborhood friend. Papyrus had gone out to run errands and Sans had promptly fallen asleep five minutes into a movie he’d started watching in the living room. Gaster and the flower were the only ones still awake in the house, and Gaster had been lingering in the kitchen where Frisk had left Flowey in a patch of afternoon sunlight by the window. “What?”

Gaster slid the tablet in front of the flower. Flowey sighed and reached out tiredly with a tendril to press the font button.

_DO YOU THINK I SHOULD LEAVE SANS AND PAPYRUS?_

Flowey stared at the message for a moment before looking up at Gaster slowly. “...they’re not your family. Not really.”

Gaster looked downward slowly. “/I know.../”

“You’re kind of just a big, annoying mooch who won’t leave.”

Gaster sighed and sunk down onto the table. Flowey leaned away a little as the monster lay his skull down on one side on the tabletop. Gaster feebly reached out a hand and tapped out another message which Flowey translated.

_WHERE WILL I GO?_

“How should I know?” Flowey said, sounding a little annoyed. “Maybe my dad would take care of you. He’s lonely and pathetic too.”

Gaster grimaced, drumming his fingers once on the tabletop. “/I would just as soon never see Asgore again if I can manage it,/” he muttered. Then he softened somewhat, staring at nothing. He tapped out a few more words.

_DO YOU EVER THINK ABOUT TELLING YOUR PARENTS THE TRUTH?_

“About me?” Flowey asked, leaning back a little. Gaster glanced at him, only moving his eyes. Flowey looked conflicted for a moment, then he spoke quietly. “...yeah, I guess so. Not seriously though. I don’t...I’ve been there, okay? It was hell. I don’t want them to know. I have Frisk. ...and I have you, I guess, you’re not too terrible. ...are you thinking about telling Sans and Papyrus?”

Gaster glanced away again, curling his fingers into the holes in his palms.

“Okay, gramps,” Flowey started sharply, “let’s talk about why that is a REALLY idiotic idea. My family REMEMBERS me. Maybe not like THIS but they do remember me. I did EXIST. You didn’t. You’re just gonna confuse them and then smiley trashbag is gonna ask a lot of questions about your timeline and then YOU’RE gonna have to answer them. Is that what you want?”

Gaster sighed loudly and closed his eyes.

“...I mean, maybe you could tell Papyrus.”

“/No,/” Gaster sighed, “/it would be wrong...I have no right to burden them with knowledge of a past they never experienced.../”

“...I’m assuming you said ‘no,’” Flowey muttered. “And then a bunch of unimportant stuff, since apparently you’re too lazy to type it out for me. Like father like son, huh? ‘Cept you’re not smiley enough.”

Gaster smiled weakly and opened his eyes, looking back at Flowey. He lifted one hand to tap out a message.

_I SUPPOSE IT IS TIME I LEFT..._

...

Papyrus had gotten home earlier than expected from running his weekly errands. He slipped into the house quietly, arms laden with bags, and shut the door softly behind him. He could hear talking in the kitchen and smiled at the sound of Gaster and Flowey’s voices. He headed for the doorway, eager to see the both of them.

“You won’t go far, will you? I mean, you’ll stay here in town.”

Papyrus paused just outside the doorway.

“/Probably,/” Gaster said.

Flowey stared at him, inferring. “Good. You can hold me up a lot higher than Frisk. I like that.”

Gaster chuckled tiredly, pushing himself up slowly to sit up. He took a breath and looked toward the window. It was growing dark outside. “/Sans.../” He hesitated, then typed out his thoughts.

_SANS WILL PROBABLY BE GLAD TO BE RID OF ME FINALLY._

Flowey tilted his head somewhat, looking up at Gaster again with curiosity. “I thought you were finally getting along with him?”

Gaster shrugged, smiling sadly. “/I doubt that he will ever really trust me...I don’t deserve it, certainly…I’ve overstayed my welcome here. This living situation was only supposed to be until I got my footing here on the Surface. And I suppose I have.../”

Flowey frowned up at him and when Gaster didn’t move to type into the tablet, he swatted impatiently at the table with one of his tendrils. Gaster jumped a little and then quickly retrieved the tablet, typing.

Outside the doorway, Papyrus listened intently, wringing his hands and trying to keep the bags on his arms from rustling.

“Are you gonna tell them?”

Gaster hesitated. “/...not yet./” He tapped the message out.

“I won’t tell Frisk then.”

“/Thank you,/” Gaster said, bowing his head politely. “/It’s getting late...Frisk should take you home soon. Before you begin worrying Toriel./”

Papyrus heard the chair move as Gaster stood. He tensed and quickly stepped back from the doorway and hurried down the hall, unseen.

...

Gaster’s Soul throbbed in his chest.

His old lab seemed darker every time he dreamed of it. Had it really been so dim? Or was he remembering it wrong? His younger self was hunched in front of a monitor, eyes darting over readouts, one badly-shaking finger tracing over the timelines displayed there. 

“/It kept getting worse,/” Gaster murmured from the shadows. “/The timelines were getting too difficult for me to keep track of...and the Determination was…having side-effects./”

The young Gaster cursed softly as a mug clattered to the floor, knocked aside by his shaking hand. Tea spilled out over the tile and several pieces of the mug scattered where they’d chipped off. The young scientist raised a trembling hand and a glow ignited behind his eyes--then the lights in the room flickered, and things _shifted_ , and the mug was back on the desk, the tea once more inside, the floor once more clean.

“/It became an addiction.../”

“Dad?”

Both Gasters jumped. The dreamer stepped back deeper into the shadows. Papyrus stepped hesitantly into the room, fiddling with his fingers, dressed in a pair of striped pajamas. He was still young, but growing fast. His voice was meek and worried, “It’s really late…”

The young Gaster regarded him with abject anxiety, trembling badly. “I-I’m...very busy, Papyrus.”

The young skeleton still came closer, though he looked apprehensive himself, his hands still wrung together. “You have to sleep though, Dad…”

The young Gaster tried his best to smile but it faltered with every anxious twitch and tremor. “I-I will, I s-swear, Papyrus. Please. I’m busy.”

Papyrus stepped right up to him, looking up at him, his head tilted slightly to one side. He reached a small hand up and touched Gaster’s cheek, just beneath his left eye. Gaster flinched away from him, startled. He looked down at the skeleton, cocking his head. His right eye twitched slightly. Papyrus’ hand still lingered, tracing the hairline crack under his father’s eye.

“What are these from?” Papyrus asked meekly.

Gaster swallowed. He shook his head slightly to stop his eye from twitching and Papyrus carefully withdrew his hand. “A-an experiment,” the scientist said haltingly, “nothing t-to worry about…”

Papyrus gazed worriedly up at him. “You’ve got one on your other eye too...Do they hurt?”

The young Gaster trembled more. He stared down at his son, touching Papyrus’ arm gently and moving him back a step. “N-no, Papyrus…”

“They look like they hurt…”

“It’s fine, p-please, don’t worry about them.”

“But Dad--”

Gaster swiveled his chair around to face the desk again, fumbling on the desktop for something. Papyrus tilted his head, watching him with concern. In the shadows, Gaster tried to shuffle back further into the blackness. “/Why…? Why? Was it fear? Was it shame? Why did you _do_ this?/”

The lights flickered. Gaster’s Soul pulsed and he clutched at the front of his coat. 

Papyrus was standing a few feet from his father and the young Gaster was once again facing him. “You have to sleep though, Dad...” Papyrus said quietly.

Gaster swiveled his chair around, turning his back on his son. His body was trembling badly. From the shadows, Gaster could see one of the young scientist's hands beginning to lose its stability. “I will. I-I swear. Please go.”

Papyrus withdrew a little, put off by his father’s dismissal. He gazed down for a moment, but when his father didn’t speak again, he turned and slowly walked back out. 

Gaster pushed back further into the blackness behind him, shaking his head, closing his eyes against the memory. Then it was as though his foot slipped from under him and he pitched backward into the darkness. His younger self turned toward him, smiling as his whole body began to collapse in upon itself in oozing, melting masses of inky flesh. Then everything was black.

...

Gaster clutched at his chest, trying to catch his breath. His Soul seemed to throb inside of him. He squeezed his eyes shut, but it was too late to stop his crying. He choked out a sob and shuddered, pressing his chin to his chest.

The door opened abruptly and Gaster looked up, startled. Papyrus was standing there, looking anxious and concerned. He stared at Gaster for a moment and Gaster stared back, before he managed uncertainty, "Are...are you okay, Doctor Gaster?"

Gaster wanted to chase him off, wanted to say anything except for the truth. But only one word came out of his mouth. "/...no./"

He was wracked with another sudden sob and Papyrus quickly stepped inside and pushed the door shut behind him, moving to sit on the bed beside him. Without protest, Gaster leaned into the skeleton's shoulder, feeling his stability wavering, and struggling not to melt into the other monster. He clutched Papyrus’ arm with one hand, crying and feeling the fool for it.

"When we were still Underground," Papyrus said quietly, "Sans used to be 'not okay' a lot...He never wanted to talk about it though. So if you don't want to talk about it, that's okay."

Gaster managed a deep breath and stifled his tears somewhat. His stability was still fragile though; he felt as though he weighed twice his normal weight, like his body was trying to melt into the bed beneath him. He held tight to Papyrus like a life raft, keeping him afloat.

“/Did I wake you…?/”

“Yes, but...it’s okay. I’m a light sleeper. ...Doctor Gaster, are you--? Um...”

“/...Papyrus?/”

Papyrus smiled weakly. “Sorry, it’s...Did you have a nightmare…?”

Gaster gazed at Papyrus a moment longer, wondering, then he lowered his eyes. “/Yes...About...my son…/”

“...oh,” Papyrus murmured. He hesitated, then carefully put an arm around Gaster’s back. “...I’m sorry.”

Gaster leaned his head against Papyrus once more, aching to tell him the truth, whatever the cost. But he couldn’t bear to do that, to saddle Papyrus with knowledge of a timeline that he had no knowledge of. It was wrong. He almost wanted to laugh at that. Him, taking the moral high ground, now, after all he’d done…

Papyrus touched the crack under Gaster’s eye gently. Gaster stared at him, startled. Papyrus looked somewhat sheepish, but also quietly concerned. “What are these from…?” he murmured.

Gaster stared still. His whole body felt tight. “...an experiment,” he managed. His own voice felt distant. “Nothing to worry about…”

“...do they hurt?” Papyrus asked quietly.

“/...n...no, Papyrus.../”

“They look like they hurt…”

Gaster’s hand stiffly rose and clutched Papyrus’ wrist, carefully pulling the skeletal fingers from his face. Papyrus frowned sheepishly, looking chastised. He curled his fingers into his hand as Gaster released him. “Sorry.”

“/I...I could use some tea…/” Gaster managed, though he was trembling badly.

“Oh,” Papyrus murmured, “I could make you some…!”

“/No, no,/” Gaster murmured, already struggling off the bed. Papyrus helped him carefully, seeming anxious that his touch might harm the fragile man. “/I...I’ll do it. Please stay here./”

Papyrus watched rather helplessly as Gaster rubbed at his eye with one hand and shuffled out of the room. He sighed weakly and leaned back against the headboard, feeling useless.

...

Sans was surprised to see Papyrus’ door open when he came home. It was late, and surely Papyrus would have been asleep by now. He rubbed at his eye tiredly, using the wall for support. He was a bit tipsier than he’d realized when he’d left Toriel. He moved to the hall and peeked into the room; no sign of Papyrus, although the bed wasn’t made (Papyrus’ bed was always made). He turned toward Gaster’s door. It was closed, but not latched. He leaned across the hall and shouldered it open gently, steadying himself on the door frame.

Papyrus was sitting up on Gaster’s bed, leaning back against the headboard, fast asleep. The old man was nowhere to be seen, but the bed was a mess. It looked as though he’d gotten up in a hurry. Sans frowned, trying to sober himself somewhat. Great, he thought, looking at the nightstand. The alarm clock was gone. Again.

Papyrus looked safe, at least, so he stepped back into the hall to look for Gaster and stop him before he completely destroyed the clock. Sans wasn’t sure he had the energy to repair it again.

...

Gaster was slumped on the kitchen table, fast asleep. The alarm clock sat in front of him, ticking steadily. Gaster’s tools were on the table, along with a mug half-filled with tea, and a notebook laid open beside them. Sans approached quietly, hands in his jacket pockets. He stepped up beside Gaster, making certain that the man was truly asleep, before turning to look over the book--clock diagrams filled the page, with labeled parts and notes scribbled in Gaster’s chicken-scratched Wingdings.

Sans looked at Gaster curiously. Had he taken the clock apart and actually managed to put it back together…? The time had been correct when Sans had fixed it last, but now it seemed to be several hours behind...Gaster had clearly done something. But it seemed to be working, at the moment at least.

Sans smiled tiredly. “Knew you could do it, doc,” he murmured.


	10. The Question

Sans had barely woken up Saturday morning when Papyrus began pestering him. “Sans, we need to talk. It’s about the Doctor!”

The sun was barely up and Sans’ head was killing him from the night before. He was laying face down on the couch, face buried in a pillow. “It can wait,” he grunted, waving him off lethargically.

“It can’t wait!” Papyrus insisted, grabbing Sans’ shoulder and shaking him. “This is very important, Sans!”

“Papyruuus,” Sans groaned, trying to force his face deeper into the cushion. “Come on, I was out late…”

Papyrus made a frustrated sound and released him. “Well as soon as you are up, we are going to talk!”

“Okay, okay,” Sans said, waving a hand again with even less energy than before. It dropped lifelessly over the side of the couch and hung there, swinging. He heard Papyrus stomp off and then blessed silence descended on the room.

It was several hours before Sans woke again. The sun was up, high. Sans had inadvertently slept through most of the morning, although he couldn’t say he was particularly regretful. Sans had half-expected Papyrus to be hovering over him while he slept, but his brother was strangely absent when Sans slid to his feet and wandered into the kitchen. Gaster was up. To Sans’ surprise, the old man was in the kitchen, tinkering with the microwave again, several piles of his messily-written notes covering the counter. Strangely, Gaster seemed not even to notice Sans’ entrance. Or, if he did, he didn’t show it. Sans crossed to the other end of the counter and put his coffee on, watching Gaster with mildly suspicious curiosity. The monster was so engrossed in his work he didn’t even look up, examining parts that he had removed from the appliance, making a few sketches and notes, and then moving on to the next piece. He was murmuring to himself under his breath, occasionally making signs with one hand. Sans poured himself a cup of coffee, went to the table, and sat.

“SANS!” Papyrus exclaimed. Sans jumped a little, looking to the doorway as Papyrus appeared there suddenly. “Finally, you’re awake! I have to--” He balked a little at the sight of Gaster, who glanced up only momentarily at him. “O-oh, good morning, Doctor!”

“/Good morning, Papyrus,/” Gaster said, though he sounded clearly distracted as he immediately returned to his work.

Papyrus gave him a worried look before striding across the kitchen to Sans. He put both hands down flat on the table and leaned down over his brother, who looked up at him sleepily. “We need to talk!” he hissed.

“So talk, bro,” Sans said, glancing past Papyrus at Gaster, now undeniably aware that something was indeed going on with the old man.

“Not here!” Papyrus hissed, tipping his head rather obviously in Gaster’s direction.

Sans glanced past his brother at Gaster again, tapping his fingers quietly on his coffee cup. Gaster WAS acting strangely. Sans had never seen him tinkering with any of the appliances in the house in the daylight. And the fact that Papyrus’ presence hadn’t lit him up with a smile was enough to raise Sans’ suspicions.. “...let me finish my coffee, bro.”

Papyrus was clearly on the verge of an outburst, but he sucked in a deep breath and frustratedly yanked out a chair, sitting down adjacent to his brother. The anger subsided the moment he turned in his seat to look at Gaster. “How are you feeling this morning, Doctor?” he asked, his voice warm with concern.

“/Fine,/” Gaster said, distantly. He hadn’t even looked up.

Papyrus turned back around and shot Sans a look that clearly read, ‘Do you not see something is wrong??’ Sans frowned back at him, then glanced past Papyrus at the doctor himself. “You need any help with that, doc?”

Gaster didn’t respond for a moment. “/Of course not,/” he muttered. “/I’ve almost got it./”

Sans frowned. Papyrus looked worried, like he was only just holding back the urge to stand and go to Gaster’s aid even if it wasn’t wanted. “Never hurts to have a second pair of eyes,” Sans tried. “I could give it a look.”

Gaster grunted quietly in acknowledgement but he didn’t speak. Papyrus turned back around in his chair, looking almost frantically at Sans. Alright, so the Doctor was acting a little strangely, but Sans wasn’t sure it warranted the kind of reaction Papyrus was having. Nonetheless, it was obvious _something_ was troubling Gaster. Since moving in with them, he had never been short or dismissive with either of them. This sort of coldness had come suddenly and without warning. 

“Doc,” Sans tried again, uncomfortably answering Papyrus’ silent plea for help, “really, if you need a hand, I can give it a shot. I mean, I’m not exactly an expert in human tech myself, but I’ve been _boning_ up on the stuff since you started taking apart half the appliances in the h--”

Gaster slammed his palms down on the counter. “/ _I CAN DO THIS!_ /”

Sans and Papyrus stared at him. Several of Gaster’s handwritten notes fluttered off the counter and to the floor. The old man stood for a moment, hunched, trembling, before he turned suddenly toward them, eyes wide, expression fearful. He threaded his thumbs through the holes in his palms, his voice shaking badly: “/I...I-I’m sorry, I.../”

Papyrus was staring, unable to move. Sans leaned forward slowly. “...doc?” 

Gaster turned suddenly and fled the room without another word. Papyrus was on his feet in an instant, nearly knocking his chair over in the process. After a beat, he turned sharply back to Sans. “We have to talk about--!!”

Sans’ phone buzzed loudly on the tabletop, causing them both to jump. Sans looked at it, grinning anxiously. “It’s Tori.”

“Well we have to talk!” Papyrus insisted. “The Doctor--!”

“I gotta answer it, bro.”

“It can WAIT!”

They both lunged for the phone but Sans snatched it up first and accepted the call before his brother could stop him. Papyrus threw up his arms in frustration and stalked off out of the room after Gaster. Sans stared after him, realizing only now that he was shaking slightly and that his Soul was beating inside him. “H-hey, T. What’s up?”

…

“Sans, you can’t leave!!”

“It’s just for the night,” Sans said, stuffing a pair of shorts into his bag.

Papyrus was hovering over him, anxious as could be. Gaster had locked himself in his room and Papyrus was too afraid to go in after him. “We have to talk about Doctor Gaster!”

“I KNOW, Pap, I know, I…” Sans hesitated, then zipped up the bag and stepped back from the dresser. He didn’t have a lot of clothes, but those he did were kept in Papyrus’ room with his brother’s. “We’ll talk when I get back tomorrow, alright?”

“Tomorrow might be too late!” Papyrus insisted, following him as Sans turned and started out into the hall. “Something is wrong, Sans, can’t you see something is wrong??”

Sans slung his bag over his shoulder, not looking back at his brother. “Of course I can, bro. But it can wait for one night.”

Papyrus was directly behind him, hovering. “You’re running away from this!”

“I don’t run, bro, you know that. Running’s too much effort for me.”

“Then you’re WALKING away!” Papyrus exclaimed. Sans had come to the front door. He stopped and looked back at his brother, who was near to fuming. “You’re walking away from Doctor Gaster! I thought you were finally starting to like him, but now that something’s wrong you don’t want to deal with it!!”

Sans stared up at him. He shifted the weight of his bag on his shoulder. “...I gotta go.”

Papyrus stamped a foot in frustration as Sans opened the front door. “If Toriel knew something was wrong, she never would have asked you over!!”

Sans clutched the doorknob tighter than needed. “I didn’t tell her!!”

“I wonder WHY!” Papyrus barked.

Sans turned back once more and gave his brother a ragged grin before he stepped out of the house. Papyrus followed him to the threshold as Sans turned and headed out into the snow. “The moment you come back tomorrow, we’re talking about this!!”

“Fine, bro,” Sans muttered. “Fine…”

...

Gaster’s door was closed the rest of the afternoon. Papyrus had been afraid to leave the house, afraid to even take his eyes off the other monster’s door for most of the day. He tried to play his games, watch television, but whatever he did, he kept ending up back at Gaster’s door, afraid to knock, afraid to disturb the old man. When night fell, and Gaster hadn’t even bothered to leave the room for dinner, Papyrus gave up hope of seeing him.

He climbed into bed, wondering if he’d sleep, and had only just pulled the covers over himself when he heard Gaster’s door open across the hall. He almost sprang out of bed immediately but before he could, Gaster leaned into his room and Papyrus froze, staring at him.

“/...Sans went out,/” Gaster said, simply.

Papyrus nodded. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, watching the other monster. Gaster looked...weary. But calm. The frustration that had boiled to the surface earlier seemed to have subsided.

“/...Papyrus, I’m sorry,/” Gaster said, gesturing feebly, “/I didn’t mean to--/”

“It’s okay!” Papyrus broke in quickly, offering the man an encouraging smile. “Doctor, it’s. Okay.”

Gaster returned the smile meekly. As he lingered there in the doorway, Papyrus couldn’t help but think the man looked looked unfavorably like he had when he’d first moved in with them. He looked small, and scared, and fragile. It made Papyrus’ Soul ache.

“/Would you like a story...?/”

Papyrus blinked. “...are you offering to read one?” Gaster nodded and slipped into the room. Papyrus watched with curiosity as he moved to the bookshelf slowly, his white hands twisting in signs Papyrus didn’t understand. "Oh, it's--"

Gaster ran one finger down the spine of a book before drawing it out off the shelf. Papyrus cocked his head from across the room, watching as Gaster turned toward him with the book in hand. "You knew which one?"

Gaster smiled in his usual gentle but sheepishly apologetic way. "/I did. I’m sorry. I was a step ahead of you./"

Papyrus smiled weakly at Gaster as the other monster took a seat on the edge of the bed. _Right. _Doctor Gaster. He just _knew_ things, like how a television show would end before it was over, or how a puzzle was solved without even looking at it. It was the thing about the old man that Sans disliked the most, Papyrus thought. But it came in handy, didn’t it? Knowing things? It was a useful talent, even if it was a bit unusual. And Doctor Gaster had never used his knowledge to hurt anyone, only to help them…__

__How could Sans still not trust him after all this time? And how could Gaster even think of leaving? Where would he go? Who would look after him? Who would Papyrus do his puzzles with while Sans was at work and Mettaton was on tour??_ _

__Gaster tilted his head slightly. “/Is something wrong…?/”_ _

__Papyrus jumped, startled from his thoughts. He smiled more readily, rubbing the edge of the blanket between his fingers. “No, sorry,” he said. “I was just...thinking. I really like it when you read to me! No one but Sans has ever read to me before.”_ _

__Gaster smiled at him, then glanced down at the book in his lap, flipping it open with care. “/I’ve had some practice,/” he murmured._ _

__Now Papyrus tilted his head. “Did you read bedtime stories to your child?”_ _

__Gaster froze, looking somewhat startled as he realized that he had spoken his thought aloud. He glanced up at Papyrus meekly, struggling and failing to speak._ _

__Papyrus fiddled anxiously with the blanket in his hands. “I’m sorry! That was...I should not have asked that!”_ _

__Gaster smiled at him weakly, softening. “/No, it’s...I did. I...read to both of them./”_ _

__Papyrus opened his mouth and closed it again, resisting the urge to press him on this subject. Curious though he was, he didn’t want to force Gaster to dwell on a painful topic, especially not when he was already in a low mood._ _

__“/Which story would you like?/” Gaster asked, when Papyrus didn’t speak up again._ _

__Papyrus leaned back into his pillow slowly, watching the Doctor. He was gazing down at the book, brushing his fingertips over the title page and giving the work an appraising look. He began turning the pages even before Papyrus spoke: “The one about the brothers.”_ _

__“/My favorite,/” Gaster murmured._ _

____

…

It was so dark, Gaster could barely see the old lab in his dreams any more.

The monitors were lit, dimly, as always, displaying output readings and charts of timelines that had branched off each time Gaster had backtracked to change something small. From where he lingered in the shadows, Gaster could see the light, dimly framing the scientist hunched at the desk. 

"/The determination,/" Gaster murmured, speaking softly, "/began to have ill effects upon my body. So...I began introducing a stabilizing agent in order to dilute it and quite literally keep myself from going to pieces. But...by that point, it was already too late. The damage was irreversible, and it just kept getting worse.../"

Footsteps in the hall. Gaster turned toward the doorway as it hissed open.

"/I thought I was justified, fixing my mistakes,/" he murmured. "/But.../"

The young Gaster stepped into the room just as Sans stood from where he'd been hunched at the monitors. The young scientist sucked in a startled gasp, the bundle of paperwork gathered in his arms exploding in a fluttering burst of white. "S-sans?!" he gasped, snatching vainly at papers that slipped through his vaguely distorted fingers.

Sans stared at him from across the room, silhouetted by the dim light of the monitors, his left eye hazily glowing. "I knew it."

Gaster had gone down to a crouch, gathering the papers into his arms urgently. Sheafs continued to billow out of his grasp and float away into the dark corners of the room. Sans stared at him, his eyes boring holes into his father. "How many?" he asked stiffly.

Gaster fumbled with the papers a moment longer before looking up again, trembling. Fear coursed through him. "H-how many what, Sans?"

"How many TIMELINES?!" Sans yelled, throwing a hand behind him and prodding the monitor's screen with his finger. "How many branch timelines have you made?!"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Gaster stammered, absently brushing at the crack under his left eye.

"Do you think I'm stupid?!" Sans snapped. "I found your work, I’ve seen your research!”

"I'm just trying to fix things!” the young Gaster insisted, smiling in a way that made the Gaster in the shadows cringe and cower. “I'm making things _better_! If I keep experimenting, I'll find a way to go back further, to make it so Asgore never finds out about you two! We can move to Snowdin like I planned, we can be a happy family again!"

"SHUT UP!" Sans yelled. The young Gaster flinched away, stumbling to his feet and backing into the doorway. He was shaking badly, and parts of him seemed to be struggling to keep their shape. "You want us to be a HAPPY FAMILY?! You've been lying and manipulating us into living whatever timeline YOU think is the BEST one! Do you really not see how _messed_ up this is?! We’re not _experiments_ for you to screw around with!” 

Gaster shook, fumbling at the doorframe. Then his eyes darted downward and he thrust a hand into his pocket.

"STOP!" Sans yelled, throwing an arm forward.

Gaster's Soul pulsed, his movements arresting abruptly. Sans clutched the other man's Soul from across the room, trembling himself from his anger. "No more. I'm not letting you do this _any_ more. You'll go back, you'll find a way to stop me from finding out about this, so that WE never have this conversation, so that YOU can keep screwing with our lives. But I know, Dad, I know what you've done, what you're doing. It ends now."

"...S...Sans.” The young Gaster was smiling again, a terrible, misguided, hollow smile. He clutched at his chest with one hand, his fingers trembling and...melting, the dim glow of his Soul visible through the hole in his palm. “I'm...doing this for your own good." Gaster strained, still smiling, trying to withdraw his other hand from his pocket.

Sans tensed and grimaced and clutched the doctor's Soul harder, pulling him forward, forcing the hand to remain where it was. There were footsteps in the hall, speeding up, and suddenly Papyrus was sliding to a stop in the hall behind his father. He froze, grabbing onto the doorframe with one hand and looking from Gaster to Sans in confusion and shock. "S-Sans?? What are you doing to Dad?!"

Sans’ attention flicked to Papyrus for no more than a moment, but it was long enough. Gaster tugged his hand from his pocket and jammed the syringe into his arm. By the time Sans returned his attention to the monster, Gaster's magic was already igniting, amplified by the sudden presence of Determination in his body. Sans yelled at Gaster, but the words were whipped away before they could be heard. It was too late. The young Doctor Gaster smiled.

A burst of white light tore through the room. 

And then dark.

...

Darker.

...

Yet darker.

...

Gaster could hear himself breathing. He could feel the dull, aching thud of his Soul inside him. He was crying and trembling and his fingers grasped at the front of his coat.

His younger self stood in front of him, dimly lit, his face cracked, his left eye drooping. Gaster stared at him, hating him, trying to catch his breath in the midst of his angry sobs. “/You ruined everything.../”

The young scientist stared back, devoid of emotion. “Disassociating much?”

“/WHY!/” Gaster shouted, grabbing the coat of his younger self. “/Why didn’t you stop?! Why couldn’t you see what you were doing?!/”

“Why couldn’t you?”

A sob burst out of him and he sunk against his younger self, pressing his face into his shoulder, holding tight to his coat. The memory did not move. It did nothing.

Gaster choked back a sob. “/I couldn’t fix it,/” he murmured. “/I couldn’t fix anything...I was so desperate and reckless and selfish...I did this to you...to me.../" He leaned back, gazing at himself. He released his memory’s coat and his fingers brushed the cracks in his younger self's face, the ones that now matched the cracks in his own. "/I hurt you, I hurt Sans, I hurt Papyrus.../"

His younger self gazed back at him, suddenly seeming more a mirror and less a memory.

"/I want to tell them,/" Gaster murmured, his hands slipping free. “/But I can’t tell them...I can’t tell them, can I…?/”

His mirror shook its head slowly. Gaster lowered his eyes and wrung his hands, trembling. “/I can never tell them...because none of this is real...because...I’m not really their father...because in this reality, I never existed.../”

Gaster was alone in that darkness. He stood solitary in a sea of black. The throb of his Soul was heavy and deep. He felt his stability giving way, his body beginning to collapse in on itself, unable to sustain his shape and form. He struggled to remain upright, to get purchase on something solid in the empty black.

“Doc.”

He turned suddenly. Sans and Papyrus stood just behind him; not children, not youths--adults, grown. Side-by-side. They gazed at him, silent, and Gaster stared back, his thumbs threading through the holes in his palms as his body sunk away into the dark.

“/I’m so _sorry_.../”

The blackness rushed up at him, and they were gone.

...

Frisk had unexpectedly been invited to a sleepover with several of their friends just before Toriel had called Sans the day before. It was the first opportunity they had for a full night together, and since those chances were few and far between these days, Sans had jumped at it. His reluctance to deal with whatever was going on with Gaster was a factor he’d rather not admit.

They’d had dinner at Toriel’s, curled up together for a movie, and then climbed into bed still cuddling. It was a great evening, everything Sans had wanted. And yet...

Sans lay awake late into the night, unable to sleep even with Toriel's arm wrapped around him, the warmth of her body against his back. He curled his fingers gently into the fur on the back of her hand, wanting to enjoy this moment, to sleep peacefully at her side. But...he couldn’t get the events of the day off his mind. He took a breath and crawled out of bed, gently placing Toriel's hand against the pillow where he'd been. She shifted in her sleep, murmuring. He smiled back at her longingly and left the room.

He sat at the island in Toriel's kitchen, drinking a beer and trying to resist the urge to call Papyrus and startle his brother awake in the middle of the night. He wanted to trust that Gaster was alright, that he was just having an off day and that his anger wasn’t any sort of reflection of something Sans hadn’t realized...But it was hard trusting people. He glanced down at his phone on the counter beside his bottle and tapped it so the screen lit up, bright in the dark room. Half-past one. Papyrus would be fast asleep. Gaster would likely to be dismantling the microwave again without Sans there to stop him.

Hm. He could call Gaster. That tablet he’d borrowed from Papyrus had a line...

The phone rang. Once. Twice.

"/S-sans? Are you well? What's happened?/"

"Hey, doc." The moment he heard Gaster's voice, laced with concern, a feeling of guilt settled into his gut. Why was he so anxious? What was he so worried about? He just scared the old man for no good reason at all. "Everything's fine. Just...checking in."

"/...checking in? It's the middle of the night./"

"Y-yeah, well...I just got here, doc, it’s a little early to check out, you know?"

Gaster chuckled on the other end, and Sans smiled faintly. "/Sans, please get some sleep. You need your rest./"

Sans smiled faintly, scratching at the back of his neck with one hand. "...what are you doing up?"

"/W-what am I--? I...N-nothing, of course. I was in bed./"

“You still at work on that microwave?” Gaster didn’t answer, although Sans could hear him shuffling about a bit. “Look, take it slow, old man. You’ll get it. You’ve got time.”

Gaster laughed a bit uncomfortably. His laughter was such a strange sound, a distorted garbling of what a natural laugh ought to sound like. "/Please sleep, Sans,/” he said softly.

"I will."

A pause. "/Well...goodnight, then./"

“Wait--”

“/Yes, Sans?/”

Sans cursed himself silently. The word had come out of his mouth before he’d had a chance to stifle it. He hesitated, scratching at his neck with his free hand. “Uh...Doc. Are you...Are you alright?”

A beat of silence. “/...I’m sorry for my outburst earlier./”

Sans grinned wryly. “That’s not an answer, doc.”

Gaster’s sigh was quiet on the other end of the call. “/I’m alright, Sans. Just a lot on my mind./” The man lapsed into silence, but Sans couldn’t bring himself to speak. He could hear Gaster on the other end of the call, fiddling with something, stalling, perhaps. It just seemed like he had more to say, more to-- “/Sans, I.../” 

Silence.

“...yeah, Doc?”

Gaster let out a weak, halfhearted chuckle. “/It’s late...I’m alright, Sans. Please sleep./”

Sans leaned an elbow on the counter, his hand on the back of his neck. He wanted to say something more, wanted to encourage Gaster to continue, to say whatever it was he’d been going to say. But he wasn’t entirely certain _why_. "Yeah...alright,” was all he managed. “Goodnight, doc."

“/Goodnight, Sans. I’ll see you tomorrow./”

Sans lowered the phone in front of him as the call ended and the image on its face returned to his homescreen, a selfie of himself and Papyrus, an arm around one another.

…

He left early the next morning, earlier than Toriel had expected. He apologized to her profusely when she’d woken up, explaining the situation in sparing terms and admitting that he had done what he now considered a very rude thing by running out on Gaster and Papyrus when he clearly recognized something was wrong. She was, as expected, understanding, and hurriedly sent him on his way (after making him a plate of eggs and ketchup for breakfast).

Sans hurried home, his bag slung on his shoulder, slippers slapping against the damp concrete as he ran. The sun was out and the weather was slightly warmer than it had been, melting the snow in the streets into slush. A few shortcuts later, he was home; his slippers were soaked but he paid them no mind, pushing the door open with one hand and stepping inside.

“SANS!”

Sans jumped, stumbling back against the door as Papyrus came sliding into the living room from the hall. “G-geez bro, I just got he--”

“WE NEED TO TALK!” Papyrus declared, pointing a finger at Sans’ chest.

Sans slumped a little against the doorframe and nodded.

…

Papyrus sat on the end of his bed while Sans hauled himself up into his brother’s desk chair, swiveling around to face him. Papyrus had that look in his eye that Sans recognized all too well; determined urgency. “Alright, Pap, I know. Gaster was a little upset yesterd--”

“A little upset??” Papyrus broke in loudly. Sans stared at him, startled. “He’s going to LEAVE!”

Sans blinked, pausing, his hands gripping the arms of the desk chair. “...what?”

Papyrus immediately looked sheepish, glancing away, his shoulders bunched up under his t-shirt. “He wants to leave. I-I mean, I think he thinks he HAS to leave. ...Does he have to leave?”

Sans blinked at his brother, too startled by all of this to think clearly. “Did he tell you he was leaving?”

“No,” Papyrus admitted meekly, “I overheard him talking to Flowey.” Sans grimaced and Papyrus clutched the blanket beneath him in both hands. “He thinks he should leave, Sans! Because this was only supposed to be temporary…”

Sans stared at his brother. He’d been waiting for this for so long, but it didn’t seem possible. “...well,” Sans murmured, “this was only supposed to be temporary, bro.”

“You want him to go??” Papyrus blurted, leaning forward.

“N-no! I...uh.” Sans hesitated. He looked down at his feet, flexing his toes inside his wet slippers. Gaster. Leaving. Of his own free will. Just leaving, like Sans had hoped he would for days and days. “What did he say? To the flower?”

Papyrus sat back a little, looking down thoughtfully. “He said...he thought he should go. Because he’d overstayed his welcome. And he thinks you’ll never trust him. Don’t you trust him, Sans? Even now?”

Sans looked up at him, grinning with wry uncertainty. “I don’t...know, Papyrus…But we all assumed he’d leave eventually...”

Papyrus clutched the blanket tighter, leaning forward again. “Couldn’t he stay??”

“Stay??” Sans blurted.

“Where will he go if he leaves?” Papyrus asked urgently. “Who will he stay with? We’re his friends! We’re...We’re his family. Don’t you think??”

“Papyrus…” Sans stared at his brother. Papyrus was squeezing the blanket beneath him in both hands, looking at Sans with a pleading, hopeful expression. It was absurd. Completely absurd. A few weeks ago, Sans had fully suspected Gaster of being a time anomaly who could destroy everything he’d been working to protect. Sans had been so paranoid about Gaster’s presence that he’d lost sleep at night trying to keep an eye on the old man’s door. How could this even be a conversation they were having? Asking him to stay? Calling him family??

But...Papyrus was right. Something had happened in the weeks since Gaster had moved in with them. He’d become part of their routine, their day-to-day. They’d become accustomed to his presence, and accepting of his temporal quirks and oddities. And much to Sans’ surprise, he himself had come to care about the old man. There was no denying it. He was worried about Gaster. And the thought of him leaving now, of him going out into the world on his own because he thought he wasn’t wanted...

“You...really want him to stay with us?” Sans asked, carefully, still trying to assess his own feelings on the matter. “For how long?”

“I don’t know,” Papyrus admitted, shrugging. “Forever?”

“Forever??” Sans grinned at him, feeling absurd. “Forever is a long time, bro. He might not _want_ to stay with us forever, you know...”

“Why wouldn’t he??” Papyrus blurted. “He loves living with us!”

“Well yeah,” Sans admitted, sitting back again and closing his eyes, “but...you know he’s been living alone for a long time before we found him. And you know how Tori is. Some people just get used to it. I agree with you, he shouldn’t take off if it’s just cuz he thinks he’s not wanted here, but if he really does want to leave, I mean... It’s up to him. Besides, we are his friends, but we’re not REALLY his family.”

Sans opened his eyes to find Papyrus staring at him, intently.

…

Gaster didn’t emerge from his room until late that afternoon only to slump down on the couch in Sans’ usual place, looking tired and somewhat distant. He turned on the television with effort although he didn’t pay much mind to it, despite that it was one of his favorite programs, and began tapping restlessly at the tablet Papyrus had loaned him.

Sans was still in Papyrus’ room, although he’d heard the old man’s door open and the television turn on down the hall. After exchanging a meaningful look with Papyrus, he rather hesitantly stepped out into the hall, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets and feeling strangely nervous and awkward and rather unlike himself. Papyrus lingered in the doorway to the bedroom, practically overflowing with nervous energy.

“Hey doc.”

Gaster looked up as Sans approached him. He managed a small smile, but it was forced. Sans recognized that easily. “/Sans...I hope you got some sleep last night./”

“Yeah, of course,” Sans said, stepping over and almost sitting in his chair before rethinking it and taking a seat on the couch beside the old man. Gaster blinked at him, clearly surprised by this move. “How’s the microwave?”

“/...i-it’s in one piece,/” Gaster said with discomfort. “/Although I’m afraid the dish no longer turns.../”

Sans grinned a little crookedly. “Well…at least--”

“/Yes, of course,/” Gaster murmured over him.

Sans looked up at him, uncomfortably aware of the time lurch. The sound of the television program was quiet in the background. Gaster looked away, shaking his head in frustration at his conversational mis-step. Sans cleared his throat quietly and went ahead with the question he was already going to ask, “Could I talk to you about something?”

Gaster nodded stiffly and fumbled about for the remote to turn the TV off. The room was suddenly quiet.

“I had a chat with Papyrus this morning,” Sans said, wondering to himself if he sounded as casual as he was trying to sound. “About you.”

Gaster seemed to tense beside him. He looked at Sans with anxious discomfort, fiddling with the holes in his palms, as he was wont to do. “/Is...something wrong?/”

“Oh! No, no, nothing’s wrong,” Sans said, looking up at him. “...Is it?”

Gaster hesitated and then glanced away.

Sans studied him for a moment before continuing. “Pap overheard you tell the flower you were thinking of leaving...Is that true?”

Gaster tensed more. He didn’t look back at Sans, just continued to gaze at a point on the floor in front of him. “/...it’s time, isn’t it?/” he said quietly. “/I’ve certainly overstayed my welcome...You’ve given me a place to sleep, food to eat. Company. Gifts. That’s quite a lot of hospitality for a stranger to expect from people./”

Sans put his hands in his lap, breathing in and then out again slowly. “...see, that’s...the thing, doc.”

Gaster turned slowly back to him.

“...Papyrus and I had a talk,” Sans began. “It, uh. It IS a lot of...hospitality to show a stranger, you’re right. But...you’re not really a stranger any more. I mean, you’ve been here a while now. And even though I know there’s still a lot of mysterious nonsense you’re keeping to yourself, we’ve still learned a lot about you. Ah, hell. Look. This is awkward. I don’t know any other way to say this, but...you’re not such a bad guy, doc. If you weren’t so damn temporally awkward, I’d probably have gotten along with you right from the start. And Papyrus, he’s crazy about you. 

“I guess, what I’m trying to say is, despite everything, it’s...been sort of nice having you here. You’re not bad company. In fact, you’ve got a lot in common with me and Papyrus. You’re a decent guy, you’re smart, you’re kind. You’re good at puzzles, even if your weird psuedo-omniscience kind of makes you a cheater. And, uh. Okay, I’m getting off topic.” 

Sans cleared his throat before continuing. Gaster was staring at him, head tilted slightly to one side. “The thing is,” Sans said. “You, uh...You don’t have to leave. If...you don’t want to. In fact, Papyrus and I...we wouldn’t mind if you stayed. In fact, I’d like it if you stayed, doc. And...if you need an incentive, then...we’ve got one.

“We talked it over and, uh…We both know how you lost your family. And how hard that’s been. I mean, lord knows, it wrecked Tori. 

“I’m really sorry you lost your kids, doc. I mean...I can’t even imagine. Pap and I, we never had family. We never had anybody. It was always just the two of us. And, to be honest, I couldn’t really imagine life without my bro...But...I guess that got us thinking. And uh. God, this is awkward. We’re askin’ a lot, doc. And if you’re not into it, you can totally say ‘no’, I understand, but. Okay, the thing is. Pap and I were talking. And...If you’re interested, if...if you’ll have us...

“We’d like to ask you to be our dad, Gaster.”

Gaster stared at him. He wasn’t moving. The room was dead silent and Sans was almost tempted to speak into it just to put an end to it. Then Gaster suddenly choked out a sob and brought a hand to his mouth, startled himself by the sudden sound. Sans tried to think of something to say, unprepared for the old man’s tears, when suddenly Gaster leaned forward and pulled him tight into an embrace.

“SANS!” Papyrus barked from in the hall.

Sans grinned awkwardly as he was pressed into the other monster’s chest, slowly lifting his arms to hug Gaster in return as best he could. The monster was sobbing, clutching him. “Yeah, bro?” he called back.

“WHAT DID HE SAY??” 

“I dunno, bro, he’s crying!”

“He’s CRYING??” Papyrus came scrambling out into the room suddenly and Sans grinned wider, patting Gaster’s back gently. Papyrus dropped to a seat on Gaster’s other side and slowly the monster released Sans with one arm and twisted to pull Papyrus against him, tugging Sans along with his other arm. 

He clutched the both of them, pressing his face now into Papyrus’ shoulder. The skeleton rather helplessly and hopefully put an arm around him in return, unable to keep his excitement at bay any longer. “What’s your answer??”

Gaster struggled a moment to catch his breath before he managed, “/I would...be so honored to be your father.../”

“AH!” Papyrus beamed and immediately threw both arms around Gaster, hugging him tightly. Gaster slumped against him, trembling, still awkwardly clutching Sans to his other side, though Sans wasn’t complaining, grinning as he watched the man. “Then you’ll stay??”

Gaster nodded into Papyrus’s shoulder, crying and smiling too much to answer.

...

The house was loud when Gaster woke up. He could hear the voices and the laugher of their house guests even from his bedroom. There was frost on the window, and snow on the branches outside. He breathed in deeply as he sat up, lingering a moment. The clock read 9:34. He got to his feet and slipped out into the hall, heading for the kitchen.

“‘Ey,” Sans called as Gaster entered, raising one hand from where he sat at one end of the table. “Morning. Hope we didn’t wake you up.”

“/No, of course not,/” Gaster murmured, stepping over to the table and slipping into his usual chair. 

Mettaton glanced up from across the table where he was sitting with his arms looped around Papyrus’ neck while Papyrus worked on a puzzle in his game. He smiled at Gaster curiously before returning his attention to Papyrus’ puzzle, leaning his head gently against the skeleton’s. “Have you tried the second one, darling?” he asked, and Papyrus immediately tapped at the screen. He was so invested in the game, he hadn’t even noticed Gaster’s presence for the moment. Gaster smiled at him with affection.

Toriel stepped over to the table carrying an armful of dishes in both hands. She leaned down and kissed the top of Gaster’s head gently as she passed. “Good morning, Doctor,” she said with a smile as he twisted his neck to look up and return the greeting.

“Morning!” Frisk called as they slid across the kitchen floor from the patio door. 

“/Good morning./” Gaster watched as Sans hoisted Frisk up into his lap with a quiet oof and grinned as they eagerly accepted the plate of French toast Toriel handed them.

“And for you, love,” Toriel said, setting a plate of eggs down for Sans as well. He grinned up at her, tilting his chin up as she leaned down to kiss him.

Flowey’s voice shattered the moment: “HEY! I WANT TO BE WITH FRISK! PUT ME ON THE TABLE!”

“There’s no need to yell, child,” Toriel sighed, setting a plate down for Gaster and Papyrus before she went back across the room to fetch the flower from the counter. Gaster smiled to himself as Flowey was brought over and set down on the corner of the table between himself and Frisk. The flower gave Gaster a quick, appraising look, then turned to Frisk with interest. 

Gaster sat back in his chair and watched them all, feeling warm and comfortable and content. Silverware clattered against dishes, Papyrus murmured to himself as he worked through his puzzle, Frisk laughed as Flowey tried to challenge them for a piece of their food. For a moment, Gaster almost feared that he was dreaming but...he never had dreams like this. It was too good for a dream. 

“...hey.”

He gazed down at his breakfast, a plate of French toast and eggs and a mug of his tea, lovingly prepared by Sans’ partner, by the former Queen of the Underground. Had anyone ever told him this moment would come to pass in his life, he never would have believed them, even with all his omniscience.

“Hey.”

He flexed his hands in his lap, curling his fingers in to gently rub the curve of the holes in each of his palms. It was so beyond the realm of possibility, so unlikely in its probability. Everything he had ever wanted from life, everything he had ever worked for, it couldn’t even begin to compare to--

“Dad!”

Gaster jumped, startled. He looked up sharply and found that the room had gone quiet and that everyone at the table was staring at him. Even Papyrus had looked up from his game, although the music from it continued playing softly in the background. Gaster turned sharply to Sans, blinking. The skeleton was grinning at him curiously. “...Can you pass the ketchup?”

Gaster immediately turned his attention to the table and awkwardly passed the bottle to Sans, who grinned at him and bobbed his head in a note of thanks. Conversations resumed. Gaster smiled softly, watching as Sans gladly emptied the contents of the ketchup bottle over his eggs and Toriel took her seat at the corner beside him, carefully interlacing her fingers with those of Sans’ other hand. A minute later, Papyrus abruptly let out a yell of victory and Mettaton grabbed his skull and kissed him while Frisk pointed and Flowey gagged and Toriel scolded the lot of them. At the end of the table, Sans laughed.

A beam of morning sunlight cut through the curtains.

Gaster’s hands were still.

He opened his mouth and breathed out a quiet sigh.

He was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A final thank you to everyone who has read and supported and commented on this fic, with special thanks to Grunklebill who saw the editing thru to the end. I am happy to say that there will be several epilogues (more like unrelated post-fic scenes) and hopefully a SHORT sequel. They will be separate stories, but I will group them together with this fic as a series. Thanks again for reading and I hope you enjoyed my interpretation of the mysterious Doctor W.D. Gaster.
> 
> EDIT: I've done a small [piece of art](http://eraemilius.tumblr.com/post/143710592507/a-lil-doodle-in-honor-of-the-completion-of-my) in honor of the ending. :)


End file.
